


Whispers

by lovesickjily, womeninthesequel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bickering, Bonding, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Heist, Hogwarts Professors, Misunderstandings, Morning After, Mutual Pining, One Night Stands, Patronus, Reunions, Slow Burn, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2019-11-14 12:10:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 53,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18052274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovesickjily/pseuds/lovesickjily, https://archiveofourown.org/users/womeninthesequel/pseuds/womeninthesequel
Summary: It’s only one night, Lily and James swear, when they see each other for the first time in five years. A combination of fate and new jobs, however, have other plans. Unexpectedly together at Hogwarts in the middle of a war, they’re forced to face memories they pretended to forget.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> One day, a casual conversation turned into the possibility of co-writing. After a little brainstorming, prompt shopping, and lots of caps lock texts, this story was born. It's an absolute blast to work on, and we can't wait to see what you think. <3

There was something different in the atmosphere.

That was, perhaps, the first thing he noticed when he walked into the bar that night, but James couldn’t quite put his finger on whatever this difference was. What _exactly_ was that made the air feel so different from all the other times he entered?

The ambiance was about the same— same chatter from the usual people, same sort of soft lounge music, same sort of just about _everything_ really— but he _knew_ that if he spotted whatever it was that was so amiss about the situation, he’d notice it immediately.

He’d _have_ to notice it.

Perhaps it was the lack of alcohol in his system that was making him feel that way. Maybe if he downed a glass or ten or it, he would be able to shake off the feeling that seemed to plague him. Alcohol _always_ seemed to make things about a million times better.

Still though, he couldn’t shake off the feeling that something drastic truly _was_ about to unfold that night, but maybe it was the magical side of him that was being superstitious. With the dozens of Order missions that he’d been sent on these past few years, he’d learned to be cautious, to always have his eyes and ears open for any sort of signal that foresaw impending doom coming his way.

But at a _bar?_

He wanted to separate the drinks and the dark magic, separate the potions and the liquor, separate _anything_ that kept him from living an ordinary life, even if it was just for the night.

He nearly _was_ about to sit himself down at the front, order the usual, and wait for the night to take its course, but with something so _off_ about the atmosphere, he instead took to ordering a drink before heading off to investigate some more. He intended on getting so sloshed that the bartender would have no choice but to summon Remus, his more sensible friend, but now, it seemed, finding the answer to this one question seemed far more important.

James took one quick glance around the room.

There were the same old wizards laughing over perhaps some same story that they’d recounted far more times than anyone cared to admit, a story that had probably been the highlight of their entire teenage years. At the table beside them were a group of friends, who seemed to have been the generic-brand version of James and his own friends— the Marauders, as they’d liked to call themselves in their Hogwarts years. James didn’t even _want_ to mention the fact that there were far too many couples getting much too handsy than they should have in a public outing, yet there they were, going at it as if it was their last night together, and—

His eyes caught onto a sliver of red.

It was there for one second and then disappeared into thin air, like someone had taken to casting magic in the rowdy bar, a simple little trick to entertain his eyes. Upon processing the thought, though, he realised that it wasn’t magic.

It _couldn’t_ be magic.

His doubts were soon resurrected, though, and his legs started moving on their own accord, like they were under the pull of a wand. Perhaps it _could_ have been the lure of some spell, because there was no way that he could have followed some sliver of red _just_ like that, not unless the caster held inconceivable power within them.

After much aimless walking, he caught sight of the red once again, but it wasn’t just a sliver. It was an entire _head_ of hair.

Only _one_ person had hair that red. One person who he remembered from years long ago, back when he was still running through the corridors of Hogwarts without so much as a care in the world.

He should catch up with her, ask about how she was doing in life.

The question remained though: how was he going to approach someone who he hadn’t made contact with in years without coming off as a creep? How to play it cool, like he _hadn’t_ spent his last few school years having an achingly painful crush on her?

 _Let it flow,_ he told himself. Flow. Smooth. Suave. _Exactly_ what he was the epitome of.

If they were going to meet once again, he wasn’t going to force it to happen. A simple little _hello_ should do it, and then they’d have a lovely little chat before they were to part by the end of the night, as all chance encounters went.

He had this in the bag.

Flow. Smooth. Suave. _Exactly_ what he was the epitome—

He felt himself run _right_ into her. Quite literally as well, because when he thought he’d formed a clear, concise plan, the universe had decided to add a twist to it, one that made it so that he would collide into her, the one person he thought he wouldn’t see again in a million years.

Life seemed as if it was moving in slow motion, but the events flashing before his eyes were doing the exact opposite— too quick for him to fully process— because she suddenly met his eyes, and he was struck with the brightest of greens he had ever seen in his life.

_Eyes. Green._

Green, green, _green._

He felt as if someone decided to use an Unforgivable on him. One where his very thoughts were being controlled, because _all_ he could think about were how bloody _green_ her eyes were. Like there was no other lovely aspect of hers that he could focus on. It didn’t help that he had nearly forgotten, after all of these years, just how _breathtaking_ she was, just how easily she could light up a room, just how _wet_ her shirt was from his drink spilling all over her, and—

_Shit._

He’d spilled his _drink_ on her.

That, in all honesty, was _not_ how he expected their meeting to start.

 _Way_ to go, him.

“Oh!” She took a step back, looking at the mess he managed to make of their meeting and plucking at her shirt in an effort to keep the wet fabric away from her skin. Raising her distracting eyes back to him, she started, “Sorry, I didn’t see you and—”

Time slowed down again when their eyes met. She almost made a double take, and the sentence died before she could finish it.

“Oh,” she repeated. Her hands stilled by her side. “I haven’t seen— I mean... Hello.”

“Fucking— I didn’t mean to get you all wet,” he said, feeling himself flailing about like a chicken without a head. “Not in _that_ context, at least.”

“Right. Of course not.” She laughed, but it was quiet and definitely forced. Her fingers moved by her side like she couldn’t decide what to do with them before choosing to push some of her hair from her face. “Lily Evans, by the way. I don’t know if you remember, but we, um…”

“Yeah, no. I think it’s a bit hard to forget when we’ve snogged in the past, yeah?”

Her shoulders relaxed - just enough for him to notice - and her giggle was more like the sound he _liked_ to hear when running into a pretty girl at a bar. “Yeah, that part’s a bit hard to forget.” She hesitated, but, in spite of the new blush on her cheeks, whatever she was deciding won, and she continued before he could interrupt. “My friend had to run off to see her boyfriend, but I don’t know if I’m quite ready to go home. Maybe we could… catch up? You could buy me a drink to make up for the ruined shirt?”

He was, unsurprisingly, taken aback by her words, and he shrugged. “I could just give you _my_ shirt. Right here and now.”

“They might kick us out for that,” she answered, though the color on her cheeks and smile didn't fade from her face.

“It’s not _that_ much different than those couples snogging their faces off in the corner over there,” he replied, pointing back at a table in a more dimly-lit area of the bar.

She didn't look where he gestured, continuing to meet his gaze like it was a challenge. “Do you have plans like that you'd like to return to, Potter?”

“Nah, but I reckon I’ve got some plans that I could _start_ right about now,” he said back, and, without so much as looking around, he motioned towards an empty table. “Fancy another drink? All on me, obviously.”

The corner of her mouth quirked up in the beginning of a smile. “I would,” she answered, plucking at the damp shirt again. “Since we already had one on me.”

He felt the corners of his lips curving upwards unceremoniously. “I’ll see if I can get something to clean that up, since apparently it’s criminal to lend you my shirt.”

“We'll figure it out.”

He nodded. “You should sit down. I’ll get the drinks.”

After her nod of confirmation, he turned to the bar and ordered. With two drinks in hand, he found her in the crowd again, alone at a small table with a cardigan thrown hastily over her shoulders. She tapped her nails against the tabletop while she waited but stopped when she noticed him looking for her, sitting up and visibly straightening.

He grinned at her, placing the drinks down with a soft _clink_ and plucking some napkins from the center of the table, handing them to her. “All right, Evans? Napkins won’t dry it all up, but they’ll do something.”

“Not bad,” she answered, taking the napkins from him with a noticeable shock where their fingers brushed. She dabbed at the places where her shirt clung to her skin. Even with her sweater thrown over for cover, he could still make out _certain_ parts of her. “Not exactly according to plan, but I found a cute boy to buy me a drink, so,” she looked up, “no complaints.”

“Yeah?” he said, unable to help the grin on his face while he looked around the room curiously. “Where is he now?”

“Must have run off.” She took a drink and set the glass back on the table, her fingers wrapped around the rim. “Boys are so flighty, you know? I was thinking you could keep me company in his place.”

“Only if it’s not _too_ troubling for you. Let me know if I’m not staying up to par with your expectations, yeah? I know it takes a lot to meet your standards.” Feeling bold, which in all honesty was _not_ anything new, he loosened her grip on her glass and picked it up, making a great deal of effort in drinking from her own drink. He wasn’t sure if the tingling sensation that ran through him was from the alcohol or from her touch, but he decided that it didn’t matter.

She hid what he assumed was a grin behind her other hand, letting her fingers linger by his. “What brings Gryffindor’s own James Potter to a bar like this and a table like mine?”

“Pretty redheads, apparently.”

“Charming, as always, Potter. That hasn’t changed.”

 _“Gorgeous_ as always, Evans,” he shot back, and he leaned in close to her. “What’s your secret? Sold your soul to a dark wizard for eternal beauty, have you?”

“If I have to start the sale at age twenty, I guess that doesn’t bode well for my future.”

“Future can’t be _that_ bad if you’re gorgeous forever,” he said, waving it off. He took another swig from her glass before sliding it back towards her. “What’s in store for your future, then, if not selling your soul? Finding the cure for dragon pox? Wouldn’t put it against you if you’ve already done it.”

“Nothing like that,” she said quickly, taking the drink from him and a swig of her own. “Haven’t you heard? No one wants to hire muggleborns.” Her expression soured momentarily, but she quickly replaced it with a smile he recognized, the kind she used when someone said something distasteful and she was coming up with the best response. “What about your future? I haven’t heard about you in the European Quidditch League, so you could be doing anything.”

“The world is really bloody stupid to be hiring a thick-headed Pureblood rather than the genius who is Lily Evans.” They established a pattern of sip and slide, but when her glass went empty, he reached for his own, which had been neglected since they sat down. “Gave up on Quidditch since I left Hogwarts. There’s so much more that I could be doing with my life, and I’d have to be the biggest, most selfish prick to be playing instead of fighting for the lives of other people.”

Her small, teasing smile was back, thankfully replacing the previous grimace. “Or distracting us from the worst of it with your death-defying scores.” She reached across the table to slip her fingers over his, explicitly to take his drink for herself, but it couldn’t be just his imagination that made her fingers fit perfectly with his for a few seconds. “But you always were more of the hero type. Saving the world is your style.”

He felt a bit dazed. It _had_ to be the alcohol in his system and definitely _not_ from the redhead sitting across from him. “Yeah?” he asked softly, “Then do I get the girl after saving the world? Obviously she’s independent and isn’t just there as an accessory, but that’s always more of an incentive for me if she’s waiting for me.”

Pointedly, she took another long drink, pushing the half-empty glass back toward him when she was done. “Who says you have to save the world first?”

 _“I_ say so,” he said, slightly in awe of her. “Don’t want to throw the world away for something that could be rekindled later, even if it involves someone who could practically _be_ my world.”

“Maybe _the_ girl comes after you save the world,” she allowed, tracing the ring his drink left on her side of the table. “I was thinking more like...” Lily twisted a finger in her hair, twirling the end. “A distraction. A short break from all the world-saving.”

Oh.

_Oh._

He immediately understood her implication, the one that confirmed that the words and gestures that she had been sending him were most _definitely_ what he’d suspected.

Order mission after Order mission, he’d found no breaks in between, no way to let off steam except through alcohol, but even _that_ wasn’t enough. To run into her, a crush of the past, was enough to burst the cage of feelings that he’d locked away for years, enough to make his mind conjure up new ways to find a release.

He wanted it. He _so_ wanted it.

He was quickly taken back to the times that it was just the two of them, alone like they were now, inside of the Prefect Compartment on the train to Hogwarts, inside a crowded broom closet with nothing but the others’ bodies to explore.

He’d be _lying_ if he said that he didn’t imagine those events happening again, events where he ran his fingers over her exposed skin, where he felt his lips pulled over hers in a fit of momentary passion. It was more than enough to make him want more, right here, right now, and when she expressed that she was more than willing… Well, a bloke couldn’t find it in himself to turn her away.

She was sober enough, the only indication that said otherwise being in the red of her cheeks, which was _such_ a stark contrast to the whiteness of her skin. Of course he wanted this break. _Of course_ he did.

“Do _you_ need a break? Reckon we could sort out a compromise, yeah?”

She shrugged one shoulder and leaned back in her seat, acting like she hadn’t just twisted his world on its head and made him want to get all the closer to her. That maddening smile— almost a smirk, really— still played at the corners of her mouth. “Reckon we could. Who doesn’t need a break these days?”

“Voldemort and his cronies, apparently,” he replied, feigning nonchalance. He picked up the glass, holding it out to her. “Want the rest? Got to make sure that every sickle isn’t put to waste before we go.”

She took it from him, nearly rolling her eyes. “War makes everyone practical.” She downed the last swallow and a half and put the glass back on the table with force, like it was something that she conquered. “Lead the way.”

He rose from his seat, the legs of the chair squeaking unattractively across the floor, and she followed suit. Without so much as a glance back at the bar, they left.

Something had been amiss all right, but with his finger now pinpointed on what exactly it had been, he couldn’t will himself to care any less.

He had _other_ plans for the night.

* * *

Lily didn't know _what_ possessed her, exactly.

Maybe it was the idea of Mary finding out that she ran into James Potter— the same James Potter who snuck into a few too many of her teenage dreams— at a bar when she was alone and did little more than mumble an apology for _actually_ running into him.

Even though, really, he should be the one apologizing, since he was the one who dumped a drink over her shirt— the one she _specifically_ picked to make her eyes shine, even in the dim lights of a bar. Women had a tendency to over-apologize, she knew. She’d told herself the same thing a hundred times and _still_ hadn’t managed to break the habit.

The spark behind his glasses didn’t help matters.

Maybe it was because she already felt on edge— untethered and unattached to anything, including her own idea of herself. Lily could be anyone she wanted to be for the night. Her friend might have left before the night felt properly over to tend to a sick boyfriend, but Lily only had a half-packed flat waiting for her.

What was one more drink and maybe— if she was lucky and daring enough— one more night away from the boxes?

Of course, she didn't really _have_ to admit anything to Mary. She could send her an owl the next day, guilting her for leaving Lily to her own devices in the way of best friends. She could spin a tale of woe and convince Mary to come out with her again before everything changed.

She didn’t have to tell her friend that she had managed to run into the one boy who tangled up her thoughts. She didn’t have to tell her that he spilled a drink on her and still had those flashing hazel eyes that made any person who liked boys want to lean in and learn more.

She didn’t have to tell her that her heart still jumped and her skin still pricked, like it did when they were teenagers.

She didn’t have to tell her _anything_.

Mary only left her alone for a few minutes, and such brief loneliness didn’t necessarily mean that she needed another drink. She could be practical and productive— go home, pour a glass of wine, turn the radio on too loud, and finish packing. She could excuse herself from the situation and pretended it never happened. Pretend seeing him again didn’t make her feel like a schoolgirl who could never get what she wanted but wanted to try anyway.

But in matters of James Potter, she was rarely practical or productive.

All it took was re-introducing herself, half convinced that he forgot about the little prefect he knew at school, and noticing that small spark of recognition she so desperately hoped to see. One mention of their past, and she started _flirting_. One mention of their clandestine meetings and her silly two-drink brain wanted to find a way to get back to it.

Two-drink Lily, she found, was hardly subtle.

It was a good thing Mary left to pay attention to Reg, because it would have been far too embarrassing if she was still there to judge her every move. It was far too much like it was five years ago where Lily knew every empty classroom and closet between the Great Hall and Gryffindor Common Room.

Part of her thought Mary would have been enough to stop this grab at a past fling, but another part of her said she was getting particularly good at lying to herself.

With her fingers intertwined with his and the night air cool on her face, she wasn’t sure she _wanted_ to argue with herself. She had the right to have a good time with a person who clearly wanted her company.

What was one night?

As an early fall breeze cut through them, Lily took the excuse to press herself against his side. He hadn’t given her an open invitation to touch him, exactly, but her meaning had to be clear, if it made them leave the bar that quickly without any notice.

“Where to?”

His arm flew out to hold her tightly against him, and with one step forward— _Destination, Determination, Deliberation—_ they found themselves inside of his flat.

“Here.”

“Great,” she replied, light-headed from the combination of side-along apparation and how his body burned against hers, even through several layers of clothing. Reaching for his other hand, she took a step back and placed herself in front of him, chin tilted up to meet his gaze. One hand inched up his arm, itching to do _something_ to pull him closer. “Could I…?”

 _“Yes._ Merlin, _yes.”_

That was all the confirmation she needed. In one quick motion, she rose onto her toes, forgetting about every practical thing she could be doing, like taping boxes and selling off furniture. The only real, tangible thought that she could process was the fact that she was going to know what it would be like to kiss him again.

 _Again._ They were going to do it _again._

Wrapping one arm around his neck, she pulled him down so they could meet halfway, crashing their lips together in a decent imitation of their messy teenage sessions.

No, not _decent_.

It was _more_ than decent, better than anything they ever shared in their secret meetings, which were always rushed and terrifying at the chance that they might be caught.

They had no such fears now.

He tasted like a trace of their shared drinks and fire, burning through her veins and fogging her mind until she couldn’t think about anything but the way his fingers lit up her nerves and his kiss felt like pure energy. She pressed herself closer, desperate to close the space between them and chase the rush of feelings, but he wasn’t going anywhere, didn’t _want_ to go anywhere else.

It was not enough and too much at the same time. Not enough time for everything and too much space between them for anything.

“Let’s move this to the bedroom,” he murmured against her lips, and a warm, pleasant feeling shot through her.

“Yeah,” she sighed easily, drunk on something more powerful than hastily poured drinks from the bar. Her head swam deliciously, and she never wanted it to stop. No excuse to separate was good enough, so she stumbled forward with her arms still around him, hoping he could guide them to the right place without looking.

Sure enough, he navigated the flat without removing his fingers from her skin or detaching his mouth from hers, as if they were held together by some unknown force. In what could have been an hour or perhaps only a few seconds, she felt the back of her head softly find the surface of the bed and his own weight atop her.

His lips pulled off of hers, leaving her flushed and breathless, to hover over her and speak. The sight of him above her was more than enough to make her heart jolt, as if he was the one and only Aphroditus, handsome enough to send her insides into an eternal frenzy.

“You’re gorgeous. You _do_ know that, don’t you?”

“Convince me,” she whispered, dragging him back down to her.

He did just that.

She tried to rid herself of her sweater without breaking contact, but her attempts at shimmying under him only pushed it down her arms and off her shoulders. She knotted a hand in his always-wild hair, using the pillow under her head for leverage. Her shirt still clung to her stomach and chest in sticky-sweet patches, and she longed for something else to take its place— _someone_ else.

James must have been able to read her mind, or maybe she was just that obvious, because his fingers knew exactly where to go and what to do to make her gasp. To make her want to melt against him so it was impossible to get any closer. To make her forget about anything else and want to give him the same dizzying feeling.

Warm hands replaced the chill of her ruined shirt and shock of cool air when clothes were pushed aside to reveal skin. Falling back against the pillows, Lily giggled when his lips found her neck and covered her fluttering pulse, but it quickly turned into a series of content sighs.

It was everything she remembered from those few months of her fifth year, everything that set her heart racing and legs shaking. Everything but _better_.

There was no broom digging into her back or constant worry that Filch would hear a strange noise and come knocking. His current shirt had fewer buttons than their uniforms, so she could touch his skin sooner and press a kiss over his rapidly beating heart.

No reason why they couldn’t take their time, take all night, learn what was just right.

Two-drink Lily— nearly three-drink Lily, really, if she counted the drinks shared between them— needed to make her decisions far more often, she decided, if they all ended up like this.


	2. Chapter 2

Perfect.

There was no other word to describe the events of last night other than perfect.

Complete and utter _perfection._

They only had a few hours to catch up, and he didn’t want to waste any time. They spent much of their night doing anything _but_ talking, which was completely unlike behavior for people who hadn’t seen each other in years, but they didn’t need to talk.

Really, when Lily Evans and her lips— not to mention just about every _other_ brilliant aspect of her— were involved, talking was highly overrated.

They could catch up in other ways.

He got to explore every part of her that he couldn’t back when they were teenagers, terrified of doing anything more than engaging in little bursts of passion when the other couldn’t take it anymore. Now, with the opportunity rising, there was no reason why he _wouldn’t_ take it.

Besides, it wasn’t as if he would see her again.

It was simply a revisit to the past, an alteration of what could have happened if their self-control had completely broken free from them. After that, they wouldn’t see each other for many more years to come. Perhaps their next meeting would be nothing more than a simple greeting that would end with a goodbye, where one of them would have possibly settled in with a respectable person and a planned future.

There was no need to dwell on the future right now. Not any future far in the distance, not any future of the next week to come, _no_ future.

It didn’t matter that he still had a few items that he hadn’t yet moved into the castle, because he could easily do it another time— the day before the new term started, perhaps.

Why _should_ it matter, though, when the present was the one thing he should be focusing on?

Lily Evans was especially gorgeous when the sunlight drifting in through the window made her pale skin glow and red hair shine. Her hair wasn’t fanned out around her head like the way muggle films liked to portray women, but somehow, she still managed to outdo every glorious morning-after scene that any film could have shown.

His hands drifted over to her hair, running along the soft strands gently.

She stirred under his touch, yawning widely before she tried to open her eyes. While she blinked herself half-awake, Lily shifted under the blankets with a soft sigh, leaning into his hand. The sunlight that lit up her features made her rub her eyes with the heels of her hands to try to get used to the brightness, and he himself found it difficult to get used to the colour of her eyes, so bright and vivid and _green._

“Morning,” she mumbled, voice still rough with sleep.

“Hey,” he said softly, unable to keep himself from smiling when she looked absolutely adorable while acclimating to the morning. “Had a good sleep?”

“Mhm,” she hummed, tucking her arms under the blankets again and pulling them up to her chin. She stayed facing him and moved closer, pressing her cold nose against his warm neck. “Didn’t know you were a morning person, Potter.”

“Didn’t you?” he asked, and he felt her shaking head against him. “Because if my memory isn’t lying to me, I can recall a certain redhead watching Gryffindor Quidditch practices early in the morning. Tell me, was there something particularly interesting that you found about those practices, or were you just eager to rise in time with the whole team?”

“That,” she answered, lips brushing against his skin, “Only shows you were a _Quidditch_ person. Mornings could have been a noble sacrifice for the good of the Cup.” She shifted again, continuing to hide her face. He had to be imagining the way her cheeks warmed against his skin at the mention of her viewings of those practices. “I like Quidditch. Besides, a good prefect is supportive of her team.”

He laughed in spite of himself. “You say one thing, but your cheeks say otherwise. We _literally_ just had sex, love. Was just teasing you, anyway.” He looked at her with a sideways glance. “Unless you’ve got something else to add?”

“Actually, _I_ just woke up and don’t think we did _just_ anything, but if that’s how you see it.” She pulled away and pushed aside the covers enough to free her arms, but the impact was lessened by her immediately snuggling against his side and resting her cheek against his chest. “You know how you looked in those Quidditch clothes, James Potter, so you don’t need me to tell you.”

“Sex is a code word, obviously,” he said, liking the way she fit against him so comfortably. “And honestly, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Quidditch clothes? Care to stroke my ego and enlighten me on what you’re on about?”

“A code word? So last night was…” She shook her head and traced a nonsense pattern along his skin with her fingertip. “No, I would not,” she replied primly, though he felt her cheek move in what might have been a smile. “I _would_ , however, like some sustenance, since we had an, er, active night.”

“The word ‘sex’ is highly overrated. Last night was _loads_ better than just sex, wouldn’t you agree?” He watched her eyebrow draw upwards inquisitively. “Breakfast? Yeah, was getting to that. Got a bit distracted along the way. Too busy admiring the art and all.”

She laughed, sitting up and pulling the sheet with her to wrap it around herself. She rubbed her eyes again and tilted her head to the side to survey him for a few seconds. “Distracted. Right. Got a little distracted myself.” She grinned, not hiding the fact that her eyes lingered on him. “My shirt’s probably a complete disaster by now, so do you have something I can wear, Potter? We wouldn’t want you getting too _distracted_ over breakfast.”

“Nothing wrong with a bit of a distraction,” he grinned, but he still willed himself away from her, the coldness settling in without the warmth of her body right against him. “You’re telling me you want my shirt _now_ when I already offered last night?”

 _“That_ was in the middle of a crowded bar. I don’t think there are any rules about what you have to wear or whether you can give me your shirt in your _flat_. If the offer has already passed, though, I’ll take any shirt. I didn’t think you would want to take the time to run out in the _cold_ to get me something else when we could be…” She shrugged innocently, though there was clearly mischief in her eyes when she let the sheet slip slightly.

“‘Course there aren’t any rules. Have you a preference for a shirt? Got just about every type in my closet.” He didn’t understand why he was making such a great deal over a shirt, but that could only be attributed to the fact that the caterpillars that had sprouted in his stomach in his teenage years had grown into butterflies now, fluttering about inside of him. “And oi, I’ll freeze if it means that you get a shirt, even if it’s breakfast that’s at stake.”

Lily laughed again, letting her hair fall over her cheeks while she shook her head. “Not _exactly_ what I was putting at stake.” She looked back at him and pushed her hair back, holding up the sheet with one hand. “Any shirt will do.”

“Good. You know what they say about breakfast and it being the most important meal of the day.” He rummaged through his dresser, pulling out the shirt that was sitting at the top of the pile and returned to her with it in hand. “This good?”

“It’s good.” She took the shirt from him, moving onto her knees to kiss his cheek. After she did, she pulled away and hesitated for a second— long enough for him to notice but not long enough to do anything about it— before sitting back on the bed and tugging his shirt over her head. She dropped the sheet to let it pool at her hips and ruffled her hair. “Breakfast?”

He stared at her with slightly widened eyes, not even sure if the last few seconds really happened. From the glint in her eyes, he knew that she knew it happened. “No. You—” He made a small sound in the back of his throat. “You can’t possibly do that and expect to get away with it.”

“What do you mean?”

He wasn’t sure if she was serious or not. “Evans.”

“What?” she asked again, not giving him any indication of what she was thinking.

She was _messing_ with him. She had to be.

If she could do it, then he could do it right back to her.

With that mindset, he leaned down to give her a kiss, only this time on the lips. Not like any of their intense ones but enough to leave her hopefully wanting more. “Morning, Evans.”

When he pulled away, she leaned forward to follow him before opening her eyes, which he took as a good sign. She let out a breath that wavered somewhere between confusion and disbelief. “I proposed something not five minutes ago, and you…” She shook her head and moved all at once, pushing him lightly so his back found the headboard. She kissed him shortly, almost teasingly, as if she knew it wasn’t long enough. “Good morning, Potter.”

His eyes were trained on her person, a slightly blurred mess because he had somehow forgotten that he was pretty much blind without his glasses. He felt no need to grab them now, not when he had the feeling that they would soon be far too busy doing _other_ things that would end in him haphazardly throwing his lenses across the room, anyway. “I’d offer breakfast, but it seems you’ve got something else that you want on the menu.”

“So confident,” she answered, moving to put a leg on either side of him and settle on his lap. “I put a shirt _on_ and give you a kiss on the _cheek_ , and you think I’m ready to forget all about breakfast?”

She was far too close for his brain to be expected to function properly, and she _had_ to know it.

“Like I said, the most important meal of the day,” he said weakly. He couldn’t help but focus on how frantically his heart was beating, not when she was right bloody _there._

“You’re right.” With her forehead against his, it was a wonder he could think _anything_ at all. “We should do something about it.”

“Yeah. I reckon so,” he breathed.

He suddenly flipped her over so that she was on her back and he was hovering above her. With one last scorching look at her— the tables _completely_ turned, what with the full-fledged confidence on her face transforming into complete and blissful surprise— he swooped down to meet her lips, making no effort to put forth any gentleness.

If she was going to tease, so was _he._

His tongue licked against her lips, following the curve of her mouth, before his lips took control once again— swiftly, quickly, forcefully. He could practically feel her _writhing_ against him. Knowing that she was completely into it, responding with equal vigor, made him feel about a million times more satisfied with it all.

 _Merlin,_ she tasted amazing, felt amazing— just about _every_ sense of hers appealed to him.

He wanted more, wanted to do _so_ much more, but when his pride was at stake, he knew exactly what he had to do.

He pulled away without so much as a hint.

She stared up at him, perfectly disheveled, her mouth open and chest moving up and down as she tried to even her breathing. “That…” she managed, though her voice was faint. “That was something.”

 _Victory_ for him, and he grinned broadly at her. “Felt like Hogwarts again, didn’t it?”

“Better than Hogwarts,” she admitted, a content grin finding a home on her face. “Much more comfortable than the prefect compartment. Plus, no one prowling the corridors, hoping to catch us out after curfew or—”

She was cut off by a dull pounding against his door and something that sounded suspiciously like someone calling his name. They both turned toward it, Lily propping herself up on an elbow.

“Maybe I spoke too soon.”

“Nah,” James said, hating how Sirius _always_ came to ruin these sort of opportunities. “Just the cleaning lady.”

“This isn't a hotel, and that doesn't _sound_ like a cleaning lady. Should we…?”

“Ignore it?” he finished for her, eager to get back into it. “Swear it’s nothing important.”

The knock came once again, this time more thunderous than the one before.

“I said I liked _not_ having someone outside.” She fell back against the pillows but didn't pull him down with her this time. “Maybe you should see what it is?”

“There’s no need, Evans,” he insisted, wanting to go back to what they had been doing before their interruption. “It’s just my idiot of a mate.”

“Is he going to _stay_ there?”

“He’ll tire out eventually.”

“ _Potter._ ”

“Honestly, Evans. It’s _fine.”_ He leaned down to press a kiss to her lips. When she didn’t respond, he pulled back with a heavy sigh. He moved off of the bed, walking towards the door and positioning himself so that his body was concealed by the door.

One little nudge of the door allowed him to see Sirius, whose eyebrow was arched ever so carefully so that he didn’t even have to say what he was thinking.

Didn’t _have_ to, but Sirius still vocalised his thoughts like the arse that he was.

“What the _fuck,_ Prongs?”

“Could you leave right now?” James hissed quietly, knowing full well that Lily had to be watching their exchange. “Kind of a mood killer.”

“Maybe you _need_ a mood killer,” Sirius answered, “With the way you've been—”

“Right,” James dryly replied. “Like we haven’t been going on mission after mission. Like _that_ doesn’t already kill the mood enough. Mate, if you could kindly fuck off for an hour, that’d be great.”

“So you can keep—“

“James?” Lily called from behind him, an edge of impatience in her voice.

He looked back at her with a sheepish smile before turning back to Sirius with a glare. “It shouldn’t matter what I bloody do in my own time if no one’s getting hurt.”

“Sure you _aren't_ hurting someone, with all the noise you're making?”

“Like you don’t go around blasting Christmas music in the middle of bloody July. Hurts my ears and the neighbours’ too.”

Sirius stopped for a moment, considering. “ _Fine_ ,” he answered— finally. “Have fun, _Professor_.”

“We _will._ We’ll have the best bloody time of our lives.”

With that, James slammed the door in his mate’s face, taking immense joy in the action.

He turned back to Lily, who was looking at him expectantly.

“Well…” she started, sitting there in _his_ bed and _his_ shirt and looking _far_ more tempting than any breakfast. “You promised the 'best bloody time’ of my life?”

“I didn’t stutter, did I?” he replied, shaking it off with a grin and returning to the bed, which creaked lightly from his added weight. “Can’t take back my words now.”

“You’re a bit too far away, I think, for this to be the best time of my life.”

He pressed his forehead against hers and felt the heat from her body emanating out in the air. With the closeness between them, he could make out the smallest green specks in her eyes. “Is this too far for you?”

She dropped the teasing smirk that started as soon as James shut the door. “A bit.”

His lips flew down to touch hers in the lightest of ways. “How about now?” he mumbled, sure that the vibrations were sending chills down her spine.

“Better,” she acknowledged softly, “But I was thinking…” She slid down to sink into the pillows and pulled him along with her, as if they were attached by invisible threads. “Something like this?”

“Even better,” James grinned, and he pressed his lips against hers again— slowly, carefully. In a matter of seconds, the fire sparked within them grew rapidly. He was soon putting so much of himself into it that the flames couldn’t help but nip at him heatedly.

She was doing marvelous things with her lips, tongue, and teeth, grazing over his mouth with the utmost delicacy. He couldn’t help but dwell on how _good_ it felt, as if there was no better feeling.

If she were an ocean, he would drown in her waves.

Drowning, however, wasn’t on their agenda for now.

He pulled away from her gently to keep the image of her in mind forever before zeroing right back in again.

Best bloody time of their lives?

It couldn’t be anything else.

* * *

Tipsy Lily was good at a fair number of things. She could calculate tip in her head and guess a person’s drink order with eerily accurate precision. She knew which of her friends needed to be told to slow down and which needed encouragement to enjoy their evening.

But tipsy Lily was different from completely sober Lily.

She was quick with a response, as she usually prided herself to be, but the tipsy version of herself took chances that sober Lily never would have taken if she didn’t have a few drinks singing through her bloodstream. She followed her impulses and was far more likely to seek out attention.

All of that, apparently, combined to make her pretty good at flirting when the mood struck her. If the results from last night were any indication.

Or maybe that came with the territory of running into the boy from school who set her pulse racing and— though she would never admit it— established a standard she used to compare all of her fleeting crushes.

Yes, tipsy Lily was good at plenty of things, but one thing she _wasn’t_ good at was planning ahead.

Or maybe that was sober Lily’s fault. Sober Lily would never have thought to prepare to spend the night anywhere but her own half-packed flat. Spending all night and the better part of the morning in bed with a person she hadn’t seen for several years wasn’t _ever_ part of her plans. Leaving the bar with someone in the first place hadn’t _really_ been in her plan, but once it was set in motion, plans could be damned.

There was something to be said for not following the plan.

Maybe this was the universe’s way of formally opening the next chapter of her life. With a new job and new place to live and everything else in motion, a reminder of her past could be exactly what she needed. It was a nice reminder, at that, with a boy who still remembered what she liked and wasn’t afraid to tell— and show— how much he liked being that reminder.

She didn’t think about this part, waking up next to him and figuring out what to do next, when she got the idea to convince him to take her home. Now it was dawning on her that their time together, their little reminder, was ending soon and she _couldn’t_ spend the rest of her life letting him kiss her into oblivion.

They both had lives to get back to and things to do.

“We should move,” Lily mumbled, making no effort to do so and idly running her fingers through his hair. “Your roommate is going to start an open revolt if we don’t get up soon.”

“It’s fine,” he returned, choosing to pull her to his chest. “I pay all the rent, anyway.”

She muffled a laugh against his chest but forced herself to look up at him and not fall into the certainly tempting trap of nestling into his arms again. “To eat, then? We’ve had quite the workout, don’t you think?”

“Reckon so,” he sighed, his fingers sifting through her hair softly. “Don’t think I’ve ever gotten this much of a workout playing Quidditch, which says a lot, I’d say.”

Letting herself lean into his touch was allowed, she decided, because she also made herself reach over him for the discarded shirt. Small steps were still progress. “Let’s get up, Quidditch star. Can’t have you passing out since Pomfrey isn’t around to patch you up.” Lily pressed a kiss against his jaw and reluctantly sat up to pull the shirt over her head again.

“If you say so, Professor,” he said jokingly, and she froze in her spot. “Can’t have you putting me out for disobedience.”

“Yeah,” she answered, feeling disoriented for a whole new reason. But this, whatever this was, was only for one night, wasn't it? They didn't need to share any more than that was necessary to have a good time— a good time that would be ending soon.

She had to get her head on properly and get back to the world that existed outside of his bedroom.

“We don't have time for that,” she tried to joke back, picking up his trousers from the floor and tossing them to him. “We have to eat something or _I_ might be the one to pass out.”

He shot up from the bed, pulling his trousers on hastily. “Can’t let that happen, not after all the preaching I’ve done on the importance of breakfast.”

She rolled her eyes but took the first step toward leaving by swinging her legs over the side of his bed and standing. “I missed the tour on our way in, so you'll have to lead the way again.”

“‘Course.” He led her into the dining room, pulling out a chair for her to sit in. “Any particular craving you’ve got that I can satisfy?”

He might already have done _that_.

“Maybe.” She took a seat and caught the person across from her, likely the same roommate who interrupted them that morning, looking right at her.

Potter didn't find a new best friend since school, clearly, since Lily would recognize Sirius Black anywhere. The girls in her dorm had already spent enough time swooning over him as they did. “Anything is fine,” she answered after a pause, meeting his gaze.

“Prongs,” Sirius said, not breaking eye contact. “If I knew you invited _Evans_ over—”

“Frankly, mate, I don’t really care about what sort of empty threat you decide to hurl my way.” James waved him off. “Be _nice.”_

“I _am_ nice!” Sirius called back, looking past her shoulder to James. “Can't a best mate ask how you happened to bring home the girl you wouldn't shut up about in seventh year?”

There didn't seem to be a point in lying, really, she decided, since the reason she was there had to be obvious to anyone. “Same bar last night,” she replied shortly. “Speaking of, could I get something to drink? Water?”

“Yeah, of course,” James answered, and he disappeared into the kitchen, leaving just her and Sirius together.

“Do you want to tell me something embarrassing about James?” Lily asked, turning her attention back to Sirius. “Would that make you feel better about me distracting your best friend this morning and sitting at your breakfast table?”

Sirius snorted. “Besides the fact that he managed to get in bed with the one girl he deluded himself into getting over years ago? Can’t imagine anything worse than that.”

“If that were true,” she said, studying her nails in a display of forced casualness, “That seems like a win in your book, yeah? Sleeping with a girl he snogged in school?”

He narrowed his eyes at her, as if doing so would allow him to figure her out. “Prongs doesn’t do one night stands.”

“First time for everything,” she offered, looking back up at him.

Tipsy Lily hadn't prepared her for a protective roommate, but there was little else she could do. Her things were still scattered over Potter's floor. She stood her ground against worse people with worse agendas, so she could handle this.

 _“Only_ time, I hope.”

When James returned with her water, he placed it down in front of her, only for Sirius to grab it and finish it before her very eyes.

“Oi, what the fuck? That was for Lily!”

Sirius shrugged. “She’s got feet. She could get it her own.”

Bullies, Lily found, were not changed by begging them. Everything they did was for a reaction, so she had to make sure to keep her frustration on the inside and not give him the one he wanted. “What would it take, Black, to call a truce? Only for right now, mind you. We could eat in peace, and then I could go back to my flat with a lovely memory of our little school reunion.”

He seemed to consider her thought for a fleeting moment, tilting his head in contemplation and put a great deal of emphasis on a pose that he must have thought made him seem far more reflective than he actually was. “You could have takeaway breakfast and go right now.”

_“Padfoot.”_

If she had any fleeting idea of leaving right away, that sealed the fact that she couldn't do _that._ She couldn't end what had been a good night on such a sour note.

“I spent _one night_ in your flat. What could I _possibly_ have done to upset you that much?”

“I’m not upset, contrary to prior belief. Looking out for Prongsie here, yes, but upset? Not at all.”

“Don’t let him get in your head, Evans,” James said, putting another glass down on the table out of Sirius’s reach. She assumed he intended for it for himself. “He’s just in a sour mood because they changed the crossword.”

“To be clear, I'm not here to ruin your mate's life or wax some dramatic story to get something from you. We met up at a bar, came back to your place, and I just need something to eat before I head out for my day.”

Sirius looked unconvinced by her words, but, much to her surprise, he decided to hold his tongue, swiping his morning paper off of the table and rising from his seat. “Once this all turns to shit, don’t bloody say that I didn’t call it.”

“No need for the dramatics, you bloody seer,” James said. He offered Lily an apologetic look. “Truly sorry for my idiot of a mate. Breakfast. Right. Will get to that for you.”

“Lucky for you, you're a good shag, Potter,” she answered, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. “Need any help?”

“I’d feel like an arse if I made you help when my mate’s already been unwelcoming toward you.”

“Or it’s a nice excuse to enjoy my lovely company for a bit longer.”

“You reckon we could get away with spitting in Sirius’s food, in the case that we find it in our good hearts to prepare breakfast for him?” he asked, only half-jokingly.

“Nah, he thinks he's doing the right thing.” She followed him into the kitchen and sat on the counter, crossing her legs at the ankle. “Hard to see your kids grow up.”

“Kids. Like he’s forty years older than me rather than four _months,”_ James muttered, and he opened his fridge before looking back at her. “Fancy some eggs?”

“All right,” answered Lily, tilting her head as if analyzing him. “I think it's his way of saying he loves you, by the way. Blokes are always idiots.”

“Gee, thanks,” he said sarcastically, and he cracked the eggs over the buttered pan after heating the stove. “‘Course the bloke loves me. We’ve been friends since we were eleven. It’s just that he could have handled the situation so much better than saying that stuff to you, you know?”

Lily shrugged. “Doesn't seem like his style. You'll have to spend some time with him to make him feel better, I think, but he'll forget about it soon enough.”

He merely stared at her, appearing unsure of what to say, before turning his eyes back to the stove. “He’ll get over it, yeah, but aren’t you at all offended by what he said? It’s got to bother you in some way. He doesn’t like this situation, but how do _you_ feel about the ordeal?”

“Of course I don't like it.” She shifted on the counter, like it was suddenly uncomfortable to be under his gaze in little more than a t-shirt. “But what can I do? After I leave, we're not going to—” She broke off, aware of how much she was saying. “It's fine. _I'm_ fine.”

James looked unconvinced by her words and shrugged. “I know loads of people who find it hard to brush things off. Obviously you’re stronger than most, but Sirius could say really hurtful shit.” He popped some bread in the toaster earlier, and, as if he had timed it, it sprung up as he clicked off the stove. “Get the toast, yeah?”

She pushed off the counter, glad for the excuse to focus on something else. Black was always prickly where Potter was concerned, but she mostly avoided it when they were her housemates. If he said things to James about them, about what they were doing or about her, it happened when they weren't hidden away in a broom cupboard together.

“He likes to get a rise,” she answered, at least acting like she was above it in front of him. “I don't have to give him the satisfaction.”

James didn’t need some girl weeping in his kitchen over something his git of a best mate said. If she wanted to complain about it, she had Mary for that. Now, she needed to eat something, figure out how to look as presentable as she could with the available resources, and get out of there, so she could finish closing up her flat and moving on.

“You don’t,” he agreed. “Don’t feel pressured to leave so quickly because of him. I’d hate for you to go on a negative note.”

“It's fine,” she assured him again, taking a bite of her egg. “I can get out of your flat and let you get back to your Saturday.”

She _had_ to get out of there before she came up with a reason to stay.

Part of her would probably always be fifteen and a little in love with James Potter, but she didn't have to entertain that part of her. Not when she could see reality clearly.

He sighed in defeat and nodded, running the hand that wasn’t balancing the plate of breakfast through his hair. Offering her a small, crooked grin, he said, “Thanks for the lovely night.” He tilted his head in contemplation. “And morning. When you exclude the Sirius bits of it.”

“Oh. Er, you're welcome. I mean, thank you?” She fumbled, heat racing to her cheeks. Her lack of experience in spending the night with someone she barely knew anymore and leaving that night had to be obvious. “It was… yeah. I, um…”

“Thought it was more than ‘yeah’, but maybe I just think too highly of myself. _You,_ at least, made it more than ‘yeah.’”

“Definitely more than 'yeah’,” she answered quickly, taking the chance to take another bite instead of saying something else stupid. “Definitely.”

As if sensing her awkwardness, he changed the topic. “Any plans for the day, then?”

“Normal things,” she replied, hoping for a note of casualness. “Cleaning up my flat, meeting up with my friend to tease her about abandoning me last night. Nothing special.”

How did people usually end these kinds of encounters? She was stuck again. Was she supposed to ask about his day, like they hadn't just shagged a few times with no plans to see each other again?

“And, ah, you?”

He shrugged. “Not like I’ll be saving the word anytime soon, but I _do_ have plans preparing for a new job, so I reckon that’s exciting in itself.”

 _That_ was like a warning sign in her head. Asking about a new job, maybe even bringing up her own new employment, and hanging around to learn more was a lot closer to _friends_ than _one night stand_. She could already feel herself slipping back into a pattern, back into knowing just enough about him for the lovesick teenager that sometimes lived in her head to think they could be _friends_ instead of just _friends with benefits_.

In a few days, no time at all, she would be back with part of her past. This time, she had new responsibilities and no time to waste mooning after a boy she lost years ago. She couldn’t let herself slip entirely into the past like she belonged there.

“Brilliant. That’s wonderful, James.” She put a hand on his arm and leaned in, like she might kiss his cheek again, but winced before she could go too far. “I should, um, leave you to it then.”

 _It’s just one night_ , she reminded herself.

He smiled softly at her. “Take care, Evans.”

“You too,” she said, stumbling over her own feet to stand.

She ducked into his room, gathered her things from the floor, and gratefully shut the bathroom door behind her. From her place against the door, she could see her reflection in the mirror over the sink. With smeared mascara, red lips, and wild hair, she looked like she spent the whole night and most of the morning doing exactly what she had been doing with a bloke.

It wasn’t a Lily she recognized. Saturdays were usually reserved for sleeping in too late and reading the paper. Tidying her apartment and catching up on whatever she didn’t do during the week.

Not contemplating how other girls snuck out of boys’ apartments with ease.

Lily shook her head. This had been exactly what she suggested to him, a distraction, and that was what she wanted. She had to get out of her own head.

With that in mind, she ran her hands under the faucet to scrub her face, trying to get rid of the worst of her leftover makeup. Once it was as good as she could manage without the remover Mary swore by, she tugged on her muggle jeans and robe, shoving her ruined shirt in her bag and keeping the shirt he gave her that morning. It would be an expected casualty of her not having anything else to wear. In a last effort to look presentable, she smoothed her hair with some water and stood up straight to look at her reflection.

Good enough.

Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she walked out of the bathroom with a new dose of confidence.

But, of course, fate wasn’t on her side and had her actually running into James Potter for the second time in less than a day.

He stood outside the door, still in the clothes he managed to find on the floor and with infuriatingly perfect bedhead.

“Sorry and, um, thanks again.” She tightened her grip on the strap of her bag, feeling some of the recent confidence make way for a more familiar feeling. “Good luck with everything, yeah?”

“I— yeah, same with you.” His hand flew up, as if he was about to run it through his incorrigible hair before he decided against it, instead letting it drop limply to his side. “Listen, Evans. It really was nice to run into you again. Not just for the sex, obviously. You keep good company.”

“You too.” They were talking circles around each other, she knew, but it didn’t make it any easier to make her feet move. She stopped by his side and moved onto her toes before her brain could tell her to stop. She pressed a last kiss against his cheek and smiled, hoping _this_ was a correct way to leave his flat. “Take care of yourself, Potter.”

Walking past him, she found the front door and let herself out, only pausing for a few seconds on the other side.

She still had an awful lot of packing to do.


	3. Chapter 3

In the time between the night he had been with Lily and the first day of September, James found himself unable to get his mind off of Lily Evans no matter how hard he tried.

She left with a kiss on his cheek, as if she was intentionally making it difficult for him to get over their meeting. It honestly didn’t help matters at all. Most of his waking thoughts— if not vivid recollections of their night together— were of that bloody kiss to his cheek, the action that would, of course, cement itself in his mind because it had been the last thing she decided to leave in his memory.

He wanted to tell her more before she left. That he wanted to spend more time in her company, even as friends.

Upon quick recall of the events of the night before, he knew that it wouldn’t bode well for any potential relationship, platonic or romantic, of theirs. She seemed more ready than anything else to leave the flat, so he took it as a hint that she had no desire to spend more time with him.

They were going to be a one night thing.

They both had enough to drink to venture into the unknown, to explore one another in the dead of the night. Now that the sun came up and their time with one another was over, she was going to be a memory of the past.

Besides, there was no reason to dwell over thoughts of her, not when his initial crush on her started years ago. Now that he finally found some sort of closure to put that little crush down, he could smother it with a blanket and let it die. Seventeen-year-old James would have felt far too many mixed emotions at the thought of his future self sleeping with the girl that he fancied, but he knew that those feelings could be put to rest.

He could move on with his life.

Lily Evans was never meant to be anything more than a crush. They both got the release that they sought, and he could focus on other aspects of his life.

Like preparing for his first day teaching at Hogwarts.

It was a different sort of trepidation than the kind that he had been subjected to when he boarded the Hogwarts Express for the first time— nervous and jittery and yet _still_ so bloody hopeful about what his school years would entail. As a teen, he was never fearful of disappointing anyone, because as long as he had decent grades and a correct moral compass, he thought that he would be fine _._

But now, if he managed to screw himself up in any possible manner, he would face the wrath of the other professors, who he knew were sceptical of him because of his notorious trouble-making days. If it wasn’t that, there was the possible scorn of the students.

Really, how big was that chance that he would screw up? He was James Potter— _Professor_ Potter— and that in itself made him likeable by the majority of the sane wizarding population.

At least, in theory.

He wasn’t teaching until tomorrow, and yet, he already managed to be late to the first-ever meeting that Dumbledore called.

He swore it wasn’t his fault.

 _Really,_ it wasn’t.

The sound of his rapid footsteps filled the silence as he ran into the Great Hall, slamming the double-doors open with a _bang_ that pierced the stillness of it all.

“I’m sorry. Really, _really_ sorry for being late. I know that’s very unprofessional of me as a new professor, but Moody put me up for doing last-minute deliveries of paperwork to the Ministry, and—”

His brain barely registered the words streaming from his mouth, and yet, upon a quick scan of the room, his brain seemed to immediately process everything in front of him, causing his entire body to skid to a close. Flitwick, McGonagall, Dumbledore, and...

She was there.

 _Evans_ was there, sitting in a spot where only a professor could have sat. When his eyes met hers, he noticed that they were widened to the size of the moon.

_How?_

How could she be _here,_ of all places?

“It's no trouble, Professor Potter,” the headmaster said from the middle of the table, blue eyes twinkling like he knew much more than he would ever say. “I believe you should be able to find your seat?”

Even though there was only one empty seat, Evans— with a quill frozen over some parchment in front of her and her hair tied back in a messy bun— wasn't making it easy to concentrate on _anything_.

He felt his feet moving on their own accord, not at all able to understand this turn of events, because of course, _of course,_ out of all the possibilities that the universe could have concocted, he would be thrown into these exact turn of events.

Bloody _perfect._

He found himself right across from her, close enough to have a private conversation if they wanted. Her eyes, however, were trained on the parchment in front of her like it was the most interesting thing in the world. Perhaps they _were._ He wasn’t of any importance now that their night together had ended.

“I haven’t missed anything important, have I?” he asked when the meeting didn’t resume immediately, like everyone was silently judging him with watchful eyes.

“No,” she answered quietly, not looking up from the parchment. If he didn't see her mouth move, he might not have known that she spoke at all. “Just started.”

“Yes,” Dumbledore spoke again, bringing the meeting back to order. “We have a few new additions to our teaching staff this year. Please welcome Professor Lily Evans, who came on high recommendation and will be replacing our retired Professor Slughorn for Potions.” He gestured toward her grandly, causing Lily's cheeks to turn a faint pink as she rose a hand to the rest of the assembled staff, most of whom taught both of them only a few years ago.

“And, of course, Professor James Potter,” Dumbledore continued, acknowledging him, “Who will be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts this term.”

He grinned coyishly at the mention of his name, hoping that his attempts at keeping calm were convincing despite the fact that his brain seemed to be stuck on one sentence.

 _What the fuck, what the fuck, what the_ fuck?

If dark wizards weren’t a growing threat, perhaps he should have tried a hand at acting. No one seemed to know the internal workings of his brain, anyway, although it sounded a lot like screaming in his head.

It was a miracle that he could understand or absorb _anything_ from the meeting, with the constant refrain in his head and those green eyes sitting across from him. She scribbled on her parchment as Dumbledore spoke, looking the part of a studious professor who would take her job seriously and attempt to educate the next wave of wizards and witches. That's what she was— what they _both_ were.

The only difference was that he was going to leave the meeting empty-handed— empty- _brained_.

They spent a night together, sure they would hardly have a reason to see each other again, and now she was _here_ and she would be for the _entire year_.

_What the fuck._

He didn’t know what to do in this sick turn of events. As much as he’d like to say otherwise, he knew that he was the worst when it came to these sort of situations, like his brain decided that recoding itself was the best option to take. The smile bit of rationality that he clung onto was beginning to slip away.

He stole glances at her throughout the hour, hoping that the stubborn way she propped her chin on her hand and tilted her head away from him meant she wasn't paying any attention. Hoping desperately that the meeting would end soon so he could stop pretending to pay attention and figure out what he was supposed to do with this newfound revelation.

“Right then,” Dumbledore said again once he went over who knows _what_ in the time of the meeting, cutting through the jumble of James’ thoughts. “The students are to arrive soon, and I trust you all have plenty to do to prepare. I will see you at the Feast.”

With that, they were dismissed.

His conscience told him that at least two of the professors were not going anywhere.

He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands and heaving a heavy sigh.

_Fuck._

* * *

_What the fuck._

No amount of practicing her professor face in the mirror or late night pep talks from Mary could have prepared her for this. There was no way to prepare for the highly improbable but incredibly real situation that was staring at her from across the table.

The known challenge— teaching at the same school that raised her with the same professors who knew so many of her embarrassing teenage phases that were best forgotten— was already weighty. There was the pressure of not only their expectations but also her own. She couldn’t disappoint Albus Dumbledore, not when he told her how important this job and her new, more secret one were to the school, to the world, to _him._

She couldn’t let one night and years of short-sighted feelings ruin this chance.

It was a risk, she knew, for Professor Dumbledore to hire her in the first place. Several parents probably had negative things to say about a _mudblood_ teaching their children, even if she _did_ have nearly flawless marks and exam results in the subject. It didn’t matter that she was more than qualified for the job. People _always_ had something to say about her.

She couldn’t let him down.

She had to be better than any Potions Master before her, especially since she would be the Muggleborn Potions _Mistress._

More prepared, quicker on her feet, ready for anything. She had to work twice as hard to be considered merely acceptable. She had to leave no room for doubt that Dumbledore made an excellent choice and wasn’t purely making a political point.

She _deserved_ to be here, and she would make them all know it.

The last thing she needed was anything that would draw attention to things people would use to discredit her. She was young, she was a woman, she had no magical relatives in her family tree, and she was a middle class girl from a small working town with a sister who wouldn’t even speak to her.

The bloke sitting across from her, the one with glasses and messy hair and (likely) marks from her on his skin, didn’t have to worry about any of that.

Her only relief was taking meticulous notes while Dumbledore talked, not bothering to decide whether any of it was relevant to her. She noted everything in small handwriting, not daring to even glance in James’s direction.

It would be even worse if he caught her looking at him.

When the headmaster— her new boss— dismissed them, she had nowhere to escape. She couldn’t plausibly be taking notes when the meeting was over.

Professor McGonagall and Flitwick passed by the back of her chair, murmuring their well wishes and welcomes. She responded with typical, impersonal platitudes, her mind on the person packing up his items from across the table.

She _had_ to say something. They couldn’t go the whole year without at least prodding at the hippogriff in the room. Not saying anything had to be worse.

Maybe she would take her mother’s advice and rip off the bandage in one go.

He must have had a similar idea, because he also found a reason to dawdle, standing behind his chair as the rest of the staff talked amongst themselves and slowly made their way into the corridor.

“Er, Professor Potter,” Lily said once everyone else filtered out of the room and left them alone, a fact that brought the memories of what they did the last time they were alone rushing to the forefront of her mind. She couldn’t think about _that_ right now. “Could I have a word?”

If he was just as shell-shocked as she was, he didn’t show it, merely looking at her with a nonchalance that she struggled to muster. “Of course, _Professor._ As many words as you’d like.”

The last time she saw him, which she couldn’t stop returning to in her head, he never looked at her like that. Like she was a particularly irksome spot he needed to get rid of on an otherwise flawless finish. His words matched it, holding some edge in his tone that nothing, not even her denials of how Sirius rattled her, elicited in his flat.

It made her feel like a student who had been caught out of bounds by the Head Boy instead of the confident professor that she was trying to be now.

“Oh.” Her voice came out quieter than she intended. “Well. I thought we should discuss some things. As coworkers.”

He nodded firmly, shoving his hand deep into his pocket. “We should make it quick, then. I don’t know about you, but I’ve got a few things I still haven’t gotten around to doing yet.”

“Oh,” she repeated, feeling more and more like a disruptive pupil. “Right. Of course. I just thought we should start things off on a new foot. Maybe even help each other out, since we’re both new to all of this.”

All of the chest puffing and determined chin holding Mary tried to help her prepare apparently deflated in the face of a cool, disinterested James Potter. She was unnerved by his gaze, sharp and piercing, and how it was so difficult to make out what he was thinking.

“Is that all, then?”

“I…” Anything else she might have wanted to say evaporated into the air, leaving her clutching at her roll of parchment and bag. “I suppose.”

What could she have done?

They made no promises to contact each other again, not even mentions of how they might do so if they felt so inclined. He hadn’t supplied her any specific information about his future plans, even when he dropped in the notice that he would be starting a new job soon.

It had been one night between two people who didn’t know these versions of each other.

Even with all of that in mind, how was it _her_ fault that they were in this position? Standing across from each other, having to see one another every morning at the staff table, and possibly running into the other person at the least convenient times.

Something sparked in her chest, something that was more comfortable than the sudden meekness that a look from him managed to inspire.

“One other thing, actually,” she added, her entire posture straightening and her chin raising to meet his gaze steadily. “What the hell is your problem, Potter?”

The only indicator that he was at all surprised was the rise of his eyebrows. Even that, when she really looked, appeared to be no different than a professor who didn’t believe in some poorly-made excuse that a student concocted on the spot. “My problem? Evans, you’ll have to more specific than that.”

The more she stood there, one hand crumpling the page of meticulous notes from the meeting, the more sure she was of her own justification. Where did he get off acting wronged by her existence in a space he thought he would have to himself?

“You’re not thick, Potter. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

He sighed deeply. “Evans, if you’re going to continue to be cryptic in your words, I’d prefer it to be during some other time when we’re not busy.”

“Oh, would you?” she shot back immediately, shoving the ball of parchment into the bottom of her bag. “You prefer girls to be tipsy and agreeable and not get in the way of your big, new, important job? Is that it?”

“I prefer that girls not put words in my mouth,” he shot back, though still somehow managed to maintain his cool. That in itself made her even angrier _._ “Evans, do you really want to make a horrible first impression on the students when they see that their new Potions professor is perpetually in a sour mood over nothing?”

How _dare_ he?

“ _I’m_ the one in a sour mood, Potter?” she asked rhetorically, scoffing. “No, I’m just a _woman_ expressing my _opinion_ about what I think of your little _show_ , which is enough for you to act like I’m in hysterics. I’m just the one expecting to be treated like your more-than-capable coworker, which I _am_ , and not some target you can vent your passive aggressive frustration on for whatever ridiculous reason you’ve come up with to be cross with me for doing _nothing_.”

“Frustration?” He scoffed. “Yeah, right, because it’s completely and obviously _me_ that’s been getting worked up over nothing. Tell me, _Professor,_ what were you expecting me to say and do when you asked to talk? To pick up where we left off? You asked if we could start things off on a new foot, and now you’re upset because I’ve done that?”

“To _help_ each other, I said, if you’d be kind enough to remember! To act like adults and start ourselves off on a new foot as _colleagues_ , Potter. You know, _equals_?” By now, her voice adapted the tone that was usually reserved for bitter fights with Petunia. For fighting for herself and her right to exist at any cost. “Of course, I should have known that _no one_ is equal to the great James Potter. Should I bow when I see you next time?”

“Stop being so quick to jump to conclusions,” he snapped, and his resolve to retain his cool broke, his eyes flashing with every negative emotion.

 _Finally_.

See how _he_ liked it.

“I’m not the person you should be picking your fights with, Evans,” he continued. “You can’t even see— Never, not once, have I said anything that might have insinuated that I was better than you in any way. Please, stop making me out to be the selfish person that you apparently like to pick me out to be.”

Her blood was near boiling, but a bell of practically rang in her head. She would have to sit in front of hundreds of students tonight, only a few seats away from him, and not look like she emerged from an intimate battle. She had to change into her new robes and look the part.

She couldn’t let James Potter get in her way.

“I’ll make this quick then, _Professor_ , like you asked. I expect the same respect from you as any other professor in this school. I don’t care what you think about me or whatever has your knickers in a twist.” That part wasn’t exactly true, since his reaction to her was what started this whole episode, but if she said it aloud, it might start to be closer to the truth. “Don’t you dare suggest that I’m too emotional to do this job or bound to make a _horrible first impression_ with my students. Dumbledore hired me, same as you, and you can’t ruin this for me. I won’t let you.”

He looked as if he was going to say something else, perhaps add more to support his waning argument, but he chose to clench his jaw instead, any more fight falling down to the pits of his stomach. “Fine. Have at it, yeah? I hope you turn out to be the best, most amazing Potions teacher that Hogwarts has ever seen. The kids will absolutely _love_ you.”

He turned around and began to leave, his fists clenched tightly, but she would _not_ let him have the last word.

“Maybe I will!” she called to his retreating back, wishing she had something better or with more impact to say. Something that would sting and rattle him the same way his nonchalance hit her. “You just watch, Potter!”

He wavered slightly in his path but didn’t look back, continuing his steps away from her.

It wasn’t clever or bold or anything a heroine in a great novel would say, but it was _something_.

 _Anything,_ she told herself, was better than letting him think he got the last say.


	4. Chapter 4

Seventeen-year-old James Potter thought that he was in love— heart-wrenching, painful young love.

Back then, he thought that his heart would burst at the seams with thoughts of her and her vivid hair, bright eyes, and shining personality. That the way he felt had to be written across his face at all times, even when she wasn’t around him. That nothing could be as sharp and as real as the way the sight of the freckles across her nose made his heart ache. 

With each opportunity they had to acquaint themselves with the other’s lips and body in the seclusion of empty classrooms and crowded broom closets, he found himself falling more and more for her. Falling sohard that he thought he might have been falling into a bottomless ditch, one that only grew darker and darker as he plunged further into the depths of absolute nothingness.

It was probably the fact that he never mustered up any of his so-called Gryffindor courage to let her know how deeply his feelings ran for her, rather than his actual feelings, that caused the worst pain. 

At the time, it didn’t matter. If his heart hurt, it hurt, no matter what was causing the pain. Kissing her, he thought, would work as a remedy.

Needless to say, it didn’t help in the long run.

Looking back, he didn’t know who actually ended their little encounters first. The meetings arrived in a flurry, heightened in tempo, and dropped off suddenly. Maybe they both silently agreed that it was better to stop sooner or later, since by the time he turned eighteen, they stopped seeing each other outside of crowded prefect meetings and house gatherings. 

It was then that their friendship went through a steep decline as well. When he boarded the Hogwarts Express for the last time, they might as well have been strangers— one who was possiblyin love with the other and one who was none the wiser.

Lily Evans was only going to be a part of his past, leaving a fragment of his heart in her oblivious hands for the rest of their lives with absolutely no intention of hers to return it. He chose to let her keep it. At least he knew that she would never deliberately step on it or kick it to the curb.

That was that on the matter.

At least, that _had_ been that on the matter. 

It was as if a return to Hogwarts caused all of those feelings to rush right back to him. As if they were waiting for a cue to swoop in on him, the unsuspecting prey of a pack of bears disguised as the feelings he hoped to leave with his school-age self.

They were back at Hogwarts, the place where he could have sworn he fell in love with her and a perfect spot to be swept into nostalgia. The foolish Head Boy was now a professor, and the sweet, pretty prefect surprised him, as she always seemed to do, by becoming the same thing.

More than that, they shared loads of kisses in the past, charged by the rebellion of sneaking around and following their teenage desires. Just a week ago, they slept together multiple times, fueled by a chance meeting and mutual attraction.

The parallels were not lost on him.

It should have been unsurprising that he felt way he did, with emotions getting the best of him and overtaking the rational side of his brain. He had alwaysbeen an idiot around her, especially when his lips weren’t already preoccupied with an activity that kept him from saying something he didn’t mean to say.

Surely, if he had been more open with her after the meeting with the professors, he would have said something that he would have ended up regretting.

If James kept his distance from her, he reasoned, he would be able to keep both of them from getting hurt. If he was cold, then maybehe could convince himself that he wasn’t still the foolish seventeen-year-old boy who was never able to act on his feelings. _Maybe_ he could convince himself that he wasn’t a twenty-twoyear old man who feared that those feelings were catching up to him.

He wanted to say a dozen different things but, somehow, all his words got twisted in his mouth. They insinuated that he wanted nothing to do with her and thought she was destined to fail. He pushed her away with both hands to prevent Lily from coming too close and figuring out the poorly concealed truth.

Push her away, and she would hate him. If she hated him, and then he wouldn’t have to find a reason to keep saying “ _What if…?”_

Because speculations only led to disappointment. Because Lily Evans never had feelings for him and never _would_ have feelings for him.

Lily threw some hurtful words into the mix as well, and that didn’t help matters. It escalated into a fight, urged on by their competing tempers, that he didn’t really want in the first place. He didn’t wantto fight with her, but it was so obvious that any affection that she could have once held toward him dissolved into the open air as soon as he opened his mouth. It was so obvious that, in a matter of minutes, he’d managed to make her hate him.

Hating him, he decided, was okay. He could live with that. 

He would be able to tolerate any anger and resentment that she felt because of his coldness. It was farbetter than being stuck in a whirlwind of emotions that he suspected would always come back to a name that held the initials of _L_ and _E._

He wanted the bestfor her, but telling her that would make her run off in the other direction. Telling her would delude him into following closely behind, even if he knew that she’d never let him completely keep up with her. He would only ever be on her tail, and when she noticed that he was about to keep up, she would make it so that he was miles away once again.

He couldn’t tell her then, and he couldn’t tell her now.

He had not been sarcastic when he told her that he wished for her to be the best Potions professor, even though his words cut that way. Despite his intentions, he couldn’t find a way to put the sentiment into their talk or fight or _whatever_ it waswithout disrupting the coldness that he managed to establish around her. 

Consistency was vital.

Needless to say, the Welcoming Feast had been an awkward ordeal. He managed to secure a spot on the end opposite from where Evans was sitting and attempted to cast aside any thoughts that he had about her for the night, appearing as if nothing was out of the ordinary. As if allhe could feel was joy and excitement for the new school year.

There _was_ joy and excitement welling within him, in fact. 

These kids, so young and ready to learn, would be taken under his wing and shown ways to better themselves and their abilities. Eleven-year-old James would have wanted to be a professor to show the best ways to pull pranks on people, but twenty two-year-old James was eager to show the best ways to defend _._

It was impossible not to be excited for that. Even Evanscouldn’t dampen his mood. 

He wasn’t sure if she lookedat him at all that entire dinner, but he decided that he didn’t care. He wasn’tgoing to care. Admittedly, he was not very successful. 

Attempting not tocare only showed that he truly _did_ care.

No effort, James decided, was going to be put into the Avoid Lily Evans plan— also referred to as ALE, which was more or less what he needed in a time like this— and he would continue on with his life as if she didn’t sit across from him at the first staff meeting.

How wasit that the one girl he ever might have loved in his life was making reappearance after reappearance _now?_

_Whatever._ It didn’t matter.

_Erklings,_ at that moment, mattered.

He planned to grab his students’ attention and get them interested in the subject, so that they would know about the potential dangers of erklings. Nevermind the fact that there were far more dangerous things in the world. 

Rather than the boring way that Professor Binns preferred, he— _Professor_ Potter— engaged his group of fourth-year students by telling the information through the means of a campfire story, stimulating the classroom to appear as the middle of the woods at nighttime, topped off with a soft fire crackling in the center. 

He let the fourth years roast marshmallows in the fire when he finished with some time remaining. If thatwasn’t the best way to wrap up a class period, he didn’t know whatwas.

His teaching worked,at least as far as he could tell. No one fell asleep, at least, so that had to mean something. When the class was dismissed, he made sure to see that they all got the homework assignment before he cleaned up his classroom. 

It hadn’t been long after he finished putting all of the seats back into place when he heard a “Professor Potter?” being said aloud. 

He turned around, offering a warm smile to the fourth year girls who had stayed back to talk to him. “All right, there? Stella and Grace, if I’m right?” he asked them, and they beamed at him in confirmation. He felt slight victory at remembering their names.

“Professor,” the shorter of the girls standing in the doorway started. “We were wondering if we could ask you about the essay?”

“‘Course. What do you have questions about?”

The girl who spoke, Grace, nodded. “You mentioned in class that erklings will try to lure kids away, and in the reading—”

“Oh!” the other girl interrupted, turning away from the conversation and toward the hallway, something other than erklings on her mind. “Professor Evans! What're you doing up here?”

What _was_ she doing up here?

“Hello, Stella.” He heard her familiar voice and the tell-tale sound of her feet coming to a stop close to the door. “On my way to the library, actually, for a book about our lesson on Thursday.” Then, before he could do anything—if there even _was_ anything he could do—Lily Evans was standing in his classroom doorway, some of her hair escaping to frame her face, despite her attempt at pinning it back.

The smile that must have been for the girls faltered for a second when her eyes met his, but she replaced it quickly. 

“Professor Potter,” she acknowledged. 

“Professor Evans,” he nodded, and his voice took on the same cold tone that he regarded her with the first day. _Hate_ him, and he wouldn’t have to worry about any feelings— not his, and surely not hers. He averted his gaze back towards the girls. “Sorry, back to your question.”

“I wasn't aware I was interrupting,” Lily said, her own voice taking on a cool tone as she brushed off the sleeve of her robes. “I can be on my way.”

“No, it's okay, Professor!” Stella interjected. “We were talking about the lesson. Professor Potter was telling us about erklings in class, and he's _loads_ better than our professor last year. We had a campfire in the middle of the room! Almost as good as when you made everyone giggle with that elixir!”

Lily lifted her chin at that with a pleased expression. “Elixir to Induce Euphoria?” 

“Right!” Stella answered eagerly, bouncing on her toes. “Grace and I were reading about it too. Weren't we, Grace?” She nudged the other girl with her elbow.

Grace hesitated for a moment, her eyes darting between the two professors. “Yeah,” she answered slowly. “I was working on my potions essay earlier, but I was just wondering, Professor Potter, about the exact sound of an erkling and whether it changes depending on the target?”

“The thing is,” he started, adjusting his tie so that it was straight once again and eager to attempt to return back to the original topic, “No one knows the true sound of an erkling. Every person has preferences to a particular sort of voice, so yes, it doeschange with the target. Hopefully, you’ll never have to hear the sound of an erkling. Sincerely doubt you’d ever stumble on one, anyway. They’re rare these days.”

“This is lovely, Stella and Grace,” Lily said, “But I can leave you to your lessons. I'm sure Professor Potter will tell you everything.”

“But you’ve just arrived!” Stella protested, nearly pouting. “Besides, we don't have to talk about essays. I heard you two went to Hogwarts together. Is that true, Professor?” She looked between them quickly, as if she couldn’t decide who would give her a better answer. “Did you know each other?”

_Curse_ the fourteen-year-old brain.

Lily laughed lightly, as if the question didn't bring up a few months’ worth of teenage drama and the reason he couldn’t have a normal conversation with her. “I don't think school stories will help with your essays, I'm afraid.”

“‘Course it helps,” James returned, and he looked at Lily inquisitively. “Have you ever seen an erkling, Evans?”

“I haven't, _Professor_ Potter,” she answered, looking back up at him. Only practice reading her expressions gave away the faint glint in her eye. “Do you have some heroic story regarding an erkling that you're dying to tell?”

“Not heroic, per say, but,” he started, ignoring the jabs she made towards him, “I’d say I’ve had some veryclose encounters with them before, if the screeches I’ve heard are any indicator.”

“And you're sure those were _erkling_ screeches?”

“Of course, _Professor.”_ He put extra sting into the name. _“_ I’ve prepared enough for teaching this course that I’d say I’m quite familiarwith them. Might have even spotted one of them in my bed, if my eyes weren’t deceiving me.”

She let out a short laugh without humor. “Because your eyes are clearly the most trustworthy,” Lily answered, tapping her temple to gesture toward his glasses. “You're nothing _but_ trustworthy.”

“Er, professors?” one of the girls asked, quickly glancing between them.

James ignored them. 

“Thank youfor thinking so highly of me, _Professor._ I’d give you hundreds,if not thousands, of house points if I could.”

“Oh, of course, Professor. Would never want to _disappoint_ you.”

“Um…” Grace said aloud, but neither of them seemed to hear her.

“I wouldn’t expect any lessfrom you,” he shot back. “But we’re going on a tangent. Erklings, was it?”

“Yes,” Stella affirmed, eyes bouncing between them.

“Perfect,”he said. With his eyes still trained on Lily, he added, “Grace, have I mentioned that erklings are able to speak the human language? For all we know, these creatures could be walkingamong us and we wouldn’t even knowit.”

“What?” Grace answered, a note of worry in her tone. “Could they—?”

“Well, a good professor ought to be able to tell us, don't you think?” Lily crossed her arms and shifted her weight onto one foot. “But I'd be more worried about some practicalthreats, personally. Like people who may want to misleadour students.”

“Of course, that’s all in theory.” He cocked his head at Lily. “Professor Evans, perhaps if you paid attention in your fourth year Defence Against the Dark Arts class, you would know that erklings are being heavily controlled and are rarely around these days.”

She smirked, the same way she did when he caught her proving someone wrong in a prefect meeting. “A XXXX warning from the Ministry, if I remember correctly. Of course you'rethe expert, aren't you, Professor?” The smirk was growing. “I'm not the one suggesting to our dear students that something like that could be among us. We do what we can to keep them safe.”

“Safebut not completely unaware of the danger that’s out in the world.” He didn’t realise that he was tightening his fists when he buried them deep into his pockets, and he returned his gaze to the redhead. “Professor, would you rather I preach to the student body about how there is nothing that they should worry about, only for them to go out and see how wrongI was? I’ll dothat, then, because obviouslyyou know everything, so by default, I should _obviously_ listen to you.”

He looked back at the girl whose expression grew more worried with every exchanged comment. “And don’t worry, Grace, I can assure you that erklings should be the _least_ of your worries. They won’t get you. Promise.”

“Because you know everything about the dangersof the world, great Professor Potter, and can swoop in to keep us all shoved away and protected from it all?”

“Professors,” Grace added again, louder this time. “I'm not sure what we're talking about anymore…?”

“You _must_ know each other,” Stella mused aloud, more interested in the meaning of their bickering than the actual words. “What was Hogwarts like back then? Did you talk?”

His mind flashed through a series of memories. He remembered pulling her into a classroom and pressing his lips against hers, her hips against a desk. Walking during rounds with the strong need to reach out and intertwine his hand with hers. Laughing when she told a joke that he didn’t even think was funny.

He shrugged. “Don’t really remember her, to be honest.”

“Really?”

Lily's eyes met his for a beat before going back to the girls. “Professor Potter was a few years ahead of me, I think,” she answered. “We didn't talk much.”

“Aww,” Stella said, disappointed, but a thought seemed to suddenly strike her. “Wait. I thought that both of you were Head Students in your years? Someone told me… Wouldn’t you have known each other?” 

“Professor Potter,” Lily said, the name sounding more and more like a curse, “Was long gone when I was Head Girl.”

“But—”

“That’s the end of the story, if you could ever call it that,” James said, and the girls visibly sagged their shoulders, as if they were expecting some sort of overly-dramatised romance. He wasn’t seventeen anymore, and he wasn’t going to entertain the fantasies and potential rumours that fourteen-year-olds could spread.

“Do you have a class this period, girls?” Lily asked, not looking at him. “You better make sure you aren't late.”

“But it’s with Professor _Binns,”_ Stella whined, and that, James thought, was almost enough of an excuse to let them stay back to talk with them more. They could, at least, keep their conflict to a minimum.

“If you survive,” Lily replied with a grin, “I'll be sure to have something fun waiting for you in our next class. Now, off you go. Ready for goblin rebellions with Binns, anyone?”

“You could at least tryto keep them entertained, Evans.”

“Oh no, Professor Potter,” Grace added. “Trust me. Professor Evans makes Potions _way_ better.”

He cocked an eyebrow in disinterest. Internally, though, he wanted to know what she did in her classes. Wanted to know _all_ about her. Given their circumstances, however, he couldn’t. _Wouldn’t._ “Of course she does. I don’t doubt it a bit.”

“Not everyone has the luxury of dangling vampires in front of their classes for entertainment,” Lily said. The lightness of her tone didn't quite match her eyes. “I do what I can.”

“Dangling vampires,” he repeated. “As if doing _that_ is any worse than creating a love potion used for trapping someone into a one-sided relationship.”

“Mystudents know the value of enthusiastic consent in all things,” she responded immediately. “We learn the practical and appropriate uses of the most powerful potions.”

“And youwouldn't need any love potions, Professors!” Stella exclaimed, giggling.

“Stella!” her friend chastised, swatting her with a book.

“‘Course I don’t need a love potion,” he said, looking at them sternly. “I don’t intend on falling in love with Professor Evans.”

Don’t _intend_ , but he might as well have already been on the way toward love five years ago.

“Oh, I didn't mean—”

“We're going to go, Professors,” Grace interrupted, tugging on her friend's arm. “Classes, you know. Thank you!”

“Remember your assignment,” he reminded them, and they nodded in unison, whispering to one another as they walked away. 

Great. 

He was _alone_ with her now.

“Well, wasn't this fun,” Lily remarked once the girls disappeared from sight, her arms still crossed. “Pleasure as always, Potter.”

“Not at all,” he agreed, and he turned around, ready to leave. He was _not_ going to involve himself in another fight with her.

“Have to get back to your erklings?”

Lily Evans never did know when to leave something alone.

“Have to get back to more important things, yes.”

She scoffed. “Of course, Professor Potter. Wouldn't want to keep you from defending first years from your wild demonstrations.”

“Right. I’d nearly forgotten that you were under the belief that I go around saving the world every chance that I have. Thank youfor regarding me so highly,” he said wryly.

“Oh, so you don't? Only talk about that story with girls in bars?” she taunted.

“Only ever use saving the world as a way to provoke me?” he shot back. “Because if my memory’s correct, it’s _you_ bringing that up every single bloodymoment that you get.Find a new comeback, Evans, and stop following me around.”

“The absolute last thing I would do, Potter, is waste my time following you around. I have more important things to do, like _teaching_.” She shoved her hand in her pocket, and he wondered if it tightened around her wand, the way she did years ago when something bothered her while they were on rounds. “Maybe _you're_ the one following _me_ , ready to pounce on anything I do.”

“Right, of course,” he scoffed. “It’s almost like I don’t have the same things to do. I don’t have time to pounce on what you do, because I can’t even find it in myself to even care. Lighten up, will you, Evans? I’m not going to bloody hurt you, so you can take your hands off of your wand.”

“So you can accuse me of following _and_ attacking you? Is that what you want? You want rid of me that badly?” Lily took her hand out of her pocket and crossed her arms. “You're the one with the bloody problem, Potter.”

She was right. He did have a problem— loads of problems— but the mere fact was that her stubbornness, her pride, was going to end badly for her as well. 

_Hate him, hate him, hate him._

“I’m sorry. Is that what you want? An apology? There’s your bloody apology, Evans. Will you be issuing me a detention next because you can’t seem to do much else? Point deductions?”

Her eyes narrowed, and she pulled her robes more tightly around herself. “Have fun with your erklings, Potter. I have OWL students who need my attention more than you.” 

He cocked his head at her. “Thought you wanted so desperately for me to save the world?”

The line in her jaw tensed. “Clearly, I came to the wrong source. Have a good afternoon, Potter.” She turned on her heel, not giving him a chance to say anything else to her face.

It was _fine._

He didn’t care about saying the last word. He didn’t _._

Or, at least, he wanted to _convince_ himself that he didn’t care. 

He didn’t have _time_ to care. He had a class to teach.

(But in truth, he cared _so_ bloody much.)

—

When Lily attended Hogwarts, like most students, she gave almost no thought to what professors might do when they weren't teaching or grading or supervising. It didn't really occur to her that living there as they did had to sometimes feel _strange_. 

A few times, when the common room was too loud after a Quidditch victory, they would see Professor McGonagall in her tartan dressing gown, but that didn't really capture the full reality. In those moments, their head of house was an obstacle in the way of what they wanted, not a person who was telling them to quiet down because they were ruining her sleep.

Lily lived in the castle for the seven years of her schooling, in the same four poster bed she selected on her first night at Hogwarts. _Everyone_ lived there, so she didn't take time to think about how that might be different when she was in the minority—an assigned adult in a sea of teenagers. Most of her peers were out in the world, living in their own flats and leaving their offices each evening.

She, on the other hand, was surrounded by her work, from the moment she woke up in her new rooms, now buried in the dungeons instead of a tower, to the time she fell asleep. And even then, she couldn’t really escape it. She slept so close to her office and classroom and faced the rest of the school from the table in the front at meals that it was hard to find a real break from work.

It would make anyone think they were constantly being observed. Students and professors alike could watch her and come to their own conclusions about her and her life. They could be wildly incorrect with their guesses, but often the truth didn't really _matter_.

This would especially be true with any relationship, or _lack_ of relationship, especially one with a certain Defence Against the Dark Arts professor.

The comments from those curious fourth years were enough to make her stop and think. It was obvious that she and James were young—younger than any of the other faculty. It was natural, she thought, for teenagers to be curious and spin tales of their two new professors, especially when they could hardly look at each other without resorting to underhanded comments and stiffened postures.

If she were one of her students, Lily would probably be giggling along with the rest of them.

Ignoring him had to be the best option. How could a rumor truly start if they barely glanced at each other? If the only times they spoke were short exchanges of only a few words?

The best way to get over James Potter—not that she _needed_ to get over him—was to do what she had done since he graduated. Put him out of her mind.

Him and his stupid, wild hair and his stupid, cold attitude.

If only everyone else had the same idea.

“Professor Evans,” a student would ask, eyes wide with performed innocence, “What house were you in when you were in school?”

“Gryffindor,” she would answer with a teasing smile, “Though I don't see how that will help with your essay.”

“Oh,” the student would answer, not at all embarrassed. “I was just wondering. Did you know Professor Potter was a Gryffindor too? I saw his name on the Quidditch trophy case!”

She would put on a good smile and tell them that yes, she _did_ know that, but that had been years ago, and shouldn't you run off to Charms now? 

One night of a rapidly beating heart didn't mean she was in love with the bloke— especially when he was the type of man who clearly had a problem seeing his one night stands later. Who reacted with disgust when he saw her dare to be a person outside of his fantasy, someone with her own ambitions and goals that had nothing to do with being attractive to him.

If only everyone _else_ would get the message that she didn't want to talk to or about the new professor, who was now the popular subject of many absent-minded doodles that she caught on the margins of some of the notes that students took.

Professor McGonagall, who could usually be trusted to be fair and reasonable, was apparently in their numbers.

“Professor Evans,” she called when she found Lily ducking down a hallway to avoid Potter's classroom. 

Not that McGonagall would know the reason for her path. She couldn't. 

“I wanted to discuss something with you.”

“Yes, Professor?” Lily answered, halting immediately and still feeling like an imposter whenever the woman she always held in such high regard addressed her that way. 

McGonagall's heels clicked on the floor until she was only a few steps away from Lily. “I had an idea for an extra assignment of sorts, if you're willing?”

“Of course, Professor,” she replied, unable to let her down.

“We have a rare opportunity that we should take advantage of. I believe that it would be of great importance for the students to learn from someone so close their age outside of the classroom. Give them another way to sharpen their skills and practice for their exams.” 

Lily nodded.

“Would you consider restarting the dueling club? It's very popular when there's a good instructor. I don't mean to put too much work on you, but you were such a bright student, and it could help the students learn some practical skills.”

“Yes,” she answered, even if she wasn't really sure howone ran a dueling club. Getting further into McGonagall's good book couldn't be a bad thing. “Absolutely interested.”

“Wonderful.” She looked over Lily's shoulder and put up a hand to signal to someone behind her. “The other person I wanted to see. Would you be interested in helping Professor Evans restart the Hogwarts dueling club, Professor Potter?”

Wait.

_What?_

Lily spun quickly to follow McGonagall’s gaze, meeting the eyes of the _last_ person that she wanted to see. 

He paused in his path, shoulders tense and eyebrows slightly raised. Other than that, he made no indication that something was amiss. “If there’s no one else willing to help her, Professor, I don’t see why not.”

“I believe the two of you will make a good team and encourage students to join. Do give me the notice for the first meeting when you set a time.”

“I’m glad you're so eager to join,” Lily remarked, eyes trained on James. She broke eye contact, an easier smile coming to her face when facing the other woman. “Yes, Professor. It shouldn't be a problem.”

McGonagall nodded, smiling smally at them. “Very well, then. I expect the students will be just as pleased as I am to hear of the news.”

“Will that be all then, Professor?” James asked.

“Yes,” McGonagall said, looking between them. “I hope you've both had a good start to your terms.” With a curt nod, she started down the hall and turned up the staircase.

Leaving Lily with her new _partner_ in Hogwarts’ newest student club. 

There really was no escaping him.

“All right,” she said after a moment, shoving her hands in her pockets. “I guess we're remaking the dueling club.” 

He sighed, as if the thought of doing so was a great pain on his part. “Reckon so.”

If simply talking to her was this painful, she somehow doubted that James would be sitting with her in front of the fire, shoulders bumping as they strategized and organized. It was decided, then. She could put on a good face for McGonagall and get everything done herself to make sure it was done right.

“I'll take care of it,” she assured him, rolling her eyes. “Arrange the meeting and let you know the details. Don't want to interfere with your exclusive social calendar.” 

He shook his head. “No.”

“No?”

He looked down at her as if she was a child who had been caught stealing a cookie from the jar before dinner. “Not sure what you think the definition of ‘helping’ is, but I’m not going to let you take over the club by yourself.”

Lily took her hands out of her pockets, crossing her arms self-consciously. “Excuse me? You think I'm planning on 'taking over’ the club? I'm just making sure it _happens_ , like Professor McGonagall asked.”

“Do you know how to bloody listen?” He raised his voice a bit, a rare crack in the front he put up since the first staff meeting. “I don’t— McGonagall asked me to _help_ you.You can’t possibly expect to be able to do all of the planning alone when you’ve got otherwork to do.”

What he said was true, especially if she planned on sleeping, but how could she trust the same person who looked at her like a pest as soon as he saw her in the same meeting to treat her as an equal partner? When they worked together when they were younger, there was a natural imbalance of power. He was the popular Head Boy and Quidditch star, while Lily was a prefect with too much to prove. 

Now, she didn’t know exactly where the power stood and didn’t particularly want to find out.

“I'm more than capable, Potter,” she answered a bit uncertainly. “I don't think you're worried about _me_.”

“I’m _always_ bloody worried about you, Evans.” He regarded her with indignation. “If I gave less of a damn about this club, I would have accepted your conditions. I would have walked away to let you slave over making the arrangements by yourself.”

Well. If he was going to insist on involving himself, there was little she could do about it. If anything from their prior encounters held true, she knew it was one of the most stubborn people she ever met. It was better to go along with it and do it herself when this fell through.

“Then what do you propose, Potter?”

“When are your free periods? Or just any day that you’re free?” The manner in which he was peering down at her through the thick lenses of his glasses made her feel smaller than she already was compared to him.

She bit back any attempt at a clever comment. Working with him would be more tolerable, she told herself, if she could fake a lack of emotion. If she could pretend that he didn't burrow under her skin like a splinter. 

“I have a double period free on Wednesday afternoon. I suppose we could meet sometime after lunch?” 

“You know, Evans,” he sighed, not giving a direct answer, his hands linked together behind his back and heels rocking back and forth, “Most people ask the other party out on dates duringlunch, but I didn’t expect that from the likes of you.”

The _likes_ of her, like she was beneath him? 

_This_ was why it was so hard to ignore him or let his comments roll off her back. 

“Then, Potter, you'll be reassured that it _isn't_ a date,” she said, keeping her tone even. “No need to worry yourself.”

“It’s more of the fact that I’m, again, worried about you.” He looked at her pointedly.“Don’t want to end up like seventh year.”

How dare he?

One night together and he thought she was fully consumed with the idea of being with him again. He thought nothing else mattered to her except appreciating any attention she could get from him, the person he must have thought was God’s ultimate gift to women.

They _wouldn't_ end up that way, she swore. She wasn’t even tempted. They wouldn't sneak away to empty rooms and press each other against the wall when they were alone. They wouldn't abandon talking to occupy their mouths in other ways. 

She barely wanted to talk to his smug face, let alone be close enough to it to do anything else.

Lily felt a wave of warmth rush to her cheeks but did her best to keep her face neutral. “What do you mean about your seventh year?”

He shrugged. “Fooled around with a fifth year. Did things that I ended up regretting. Don’t want to get off task more than I should. You understand that, don’t you, Evans?”

“And that was _my_ fault?” she replied sharply, unable to stop herself. “I'm perfectly fine doing this _alone_ , thank you. You're the one who insisted on meeting together and got upset that it wasn't at the proper time for a _date_.”

She watched him swallow hard and took immense satisfaction in that. 

“Right. Like I wasn’t just trying to make a joke. Like you weren’t _equally_ as eager to do the things we’ve done in the past. Like you didn’t know how much I—” He stopped himself and instead took to glaring at her. 

Prodding for the end of _that_ sentence couldn't result in anythinggood. “You’re _not_ doing this all on your own.”

“Fine,” she said, breaking his gaze. “If you insist on helping, you can't be throwing around accusations every other sentence. We're going to have to _tolerate_ each other. At least sometimes. In front of McGonagall.”

“You have conditions? Then, it’s only fair that I make some of my own.Stop misinterpreting everything that I say and twisting it around so it looks like I’m the villain.” He took a moment to catch a breath, his face slightly reddened, and then he let out a humourless laugh. “Tell me, Evans, how the bloody fuckare we supposed to find it in ourselves to tolerate each other when we fight _every single time_ we run into each other?” 

“Not _every single time_ ,” she corrected. Her heart jumped at the memory, but she didn't give it a voice. “Just when you started acting like an arse.”

“What, you mean when we were shagging? Snogging?”He scoffed. “Come off it, Evans.”

Her fingers tightened into a fist at her side, her entire posture stiffening. “We're not talking about that. _No one_ is going to know about that.”

“Like the entire student body hasn’talready been talking about us.”

“Rumors aren’t confirmation. They don't have to knowanything.”

The next words that flew from his mouth came at full rapid speed without any warning. “Edward Dunn. Does that name ring a bell? Second year who caught us in a classroom once?” He didn’t give her a chance to nod or shake her head. “Came up to me on the first day and asked if we were married.” 

Lily swallowed, imitating the same action that gave her such satisfaction when he did it. “I'm Professor Evans, not Potter. Maybe it was his silly idea of a joke.” 

“He’ll be spreading that idea around the school, if he hasn’t already, _Professor._ You know toowell how the minds of teenagers work.”

“Well, what did you tell him? You don't need to say anything to make them think they're right. The best thing to do is to ignoreit.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her. “It’s almost like you’re interested in our nonexistent married life. I told him that no, we’re notmarried.”

“I'm notinterested in being married to _you._ ” 

She could imagine what certain people would do with rumors of the new muggleborn Potions professor fooling around with a pureblood golden boy. He seemed to delight in being able to hold it over her head, in being able to whip out information about their past to make her feel small. 

Se opened her mouth and continued. “I'm interested in keeping my job. In being taken seriously.”

“Good to hear that we have the same interests,” he said dryly. “The last thing I’d want is to not take you seriously.”

“Lovely,” she replied shortly. “Pleasure doing business with you. I guess I'll see you at our first planning meeting.” She made to turn, brushing off her robes like she was brushing off the messy parts of their conversation, blocking out anything else he would try to say to her. 

She was _not_ going to let him bother her.


	5. Chapter 5

James let her have the last word.

He _always_ let her have the last word. 

It wasn’t even a poorly-made excuse to justify his lack of a comeback. He was sure that, if he wanted to, he could have come up with something on the spot to continue their long line of arguments. But he chose not to for loads of reasons. 

It was just… Lily was so bloody cutewhen she had the last word. He could hear the small bit of victory in her voice when she was the one to end the conversation and could see a bit of triumph in her strides when she walked away.

When she walked away after their conversation or fight—whicheverit was—he couldn’t help but stay put, unable to stop a smile from emerging on his face. He was sure that if she, for whatever reason, decided to turn around to spit more fire in his face, he would have been unable to formulate a justifiable reason for why his lips were curving up, especially after a conversation that was meant to have warranted nothing but angry huffs from both of them.

Still, he wasn’t going to give in to the part of him that screamed to break away from his coldness. He especially wasn’t going to delude himself into thinking that they could be anything more to each other. 

If she made it obvious that she hated him, then James could finally stop getting hopeful that she maybe had feelings for him. He’d finally be able to put his own bloody feelings to rest. If he acted like he wanted nothing to do with her, then maybe he would feel that to be true in his heart, mind, and soul.

Of course, when he thought he might be able to steer clear of her, the world decided that it would be opportune for them to restart a club together. 

Together. Him and Evans. 

Alone. In a room. Perhaps one where, in the past, they haddone things other than talking with their mouths. 

He didn’t need thatreminder.

Coldness was the only real option. He could accuse her of things that were entirely untrue, deny any hints that suggested any romance between them, and do anythingto get Lily Evans to hate him. Anythingto stomp out old feelings that were threatening to resurface.

But that part wasn’t working. It couldn’tbe working. Not when every word they exchanged, no matter how heated they got, made his heart fill even more and his desire for her grow stronger.

Needless to say, he was dreading their first meeting. A meeting with students,who would likely be subjected to anotherbout of fighting that they hadn’t signed up to see between their two dear professors.

If he didn’t speak, he would be fine. James wouldn’t be able to provoke her if he couldn’t talk, and he sincerely hoped that she would do the same. They could fight all they wanted to in the comfort of a secluded area, but they couldn’t do thatin front of students and most definitely not in front of McGonagall, who was one of the last people that he ever wanted to disappoint.

They were civil in the meeting they arranged to discuss their first formal club meeting. From that logic, they could be civil again. Even if civilmeant one of them suggesting a potential point in their plan and the other tensely nodding in agreement, eagerto get out of the situation as quickly as possible.

Now, the horribly-anticipated first dueling club meeting of the year was coming close.

Tonight, there would be dozens of students watching them—watching Lily's eyes flash when she cast a spell, watching them challenge each other from across the room, watching them balance teaching and dueling. And, not to mention, watching James watching her.

That wasn’t anything new. It wasn’t like he wasn’t now watching as she paced on the other side of the room, working out some of the nerves that she wouldn't admit to having. A scatter of chatter from the doorway signaled the entrance of the first few students. 

His eyes flickered towards her. “Evans, you’ll be fine. Relax.”

Lily stopped digging her nails into her palm long enough to look up at him. “I know that.” Her voice was strong, even if he noticed her fingers shaking. “We planned for everything.”

“We did,” he affirmed, and he cocked an eyebrow at her. “You’ve taught these students before. They know what they’re expecting.”

“In Potions,” she answered, allowing a small break in her voice. “The basic instructions are in the textbook. That’s not like dueling.”

“Disagree,” he said simply, and she waited for him to elaborate. “Textbooks tell you how to cast the spells but not how to apply them in real life. It’s the same with Potions.”

She nodded, some tension easing from her hands. “Maybe you're right about something,” she half-joked, not meeting his eyes. He took it as a victory, even if it was a small one. “It's going to be fine.” 

“Of course, it’ll be fine,” he replied offhandedly. “Swear I’ll go easy on you.”

If he was anyone else, James might have sworn that made her smile _._ “Don't you dare, Potter.”

“No promises,” he responded as a large group came into the room, causing Lily to break away from him to greet some of the younger students. He followed closely behind her, flashing a grin at them. “If you were planning on sneaking out to the kitchens, I’m afraid you’re in the wrong place. If not, you mustbe here for the very first meeting of the dueling club!”

The students let out a loud cheer.

“Professor Potter will be assisting me in a brief demonstration,” Lily announced once the cheer quieted, not missing a chance and looking like she had never been nervous in her life. “Then we'll have a bit of practice.”

“Needless to say, I, your Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, will go easy on Professor Evans.”

“Don't worry, everyone,” she said with an exaggerated wink to the crowd that moved closer. “I'll make sure your Defence professor stays in one piece.” She glanced over at him. “Ready, Professor?”

He let out a dramatic sigh. “If you insist.”

Lily took her place across from him and squared her shoulders as she faced him. All of the nerves from a few moments before appeared to be gone. Carefully, she drew her wand, to which he followed suit. “Bow to your partner to show your respect,” she instructed. 

_Kiss your partner to show your affection,_ his mind unhelpfully answered.

Had thatbeen an instruction, James wasn’t sure if he would be able to follow along, but he didn’t allow himself to entertain the thought any longer. He wasn’t even sure where itcame from, but it hadto be attributed to the redhead standing across from him, her hair brushing her cheek as it usually did whenever she was working.

He bowed slowly, waiting for her to continue with him before his head was low enough, and he straightened his posture when he finished the action. She probably expected him to jerk his head downward in a slight motion, but he wasn’t going to let himself meet her expectations.

He was going to surprise her with every opportunity he got.

Lily also straightened and tossed her braid behind her shoulder. “We'll start with disarming. It’s a defensive spell to hopefully catch your opponent off guard. Think the spell, _Expelliarmus_ , but don't move until the last second. You don't want to give away your hand. Ready, Potter?”

He nodded. “We’ll start at the count, then. Three.”

Her gaze focused on him, her wand held out in front of her. “Two.” 

James’s eyes never strayed from her face. Not that he wantedto, anyway. 

“One.”

They both moved at once. 

Lily twisted her wrist and said her spell with delicacy, like it was a term of endearment. With the flick of his wand, he knocked away the blast of the spell with ease. Despite her failed attempt, Lily was grinning, her arm still raised, and the students were audibly amazed by their performance. “Well done.” 

He couldn’t help the smirk rising on to his face. “I toldyou I’d go easy on you, Professor Evans. Perhaps there’s a reason why I’ve been chosen to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts.”

“I don’t think I’m too bad myself,” she countered, raising her arm in an arc. Her smirk matched his when she repeated the spell. 

Despite the fact that his wand was thrown from his hand, James quickly swiveled around, easily catching it with the other hand and twirling it between his fingers. The assembled crowd gasped and oohed together. 

He tried to appear undeterred by her surprise move. “Professor Evans, you should know the injustice of casting spells on an unsuspecting person.”

“Have to keep your opponent on their toes,” she replied with a twitch of her lips. “Can't let them expect it toomuch.”

“This, ladies and gents, is exactlyhow fights at Hogwarts take place. One person is provoked by another.” He began walking around, as if he was lecturing a class. 

“Pair up,” she said, ignoring his comment. The students scurried to follow. “One of you can try disarming, and the other can defend. No intention to harm your partner, everyone! Just disarming!” 

He was all too relieved that they onlywent over disarming for their first lesson, because even then, he still had to duck to avoid the occasional oncoming jets of red coming from the students with less ability to aim. Power, they had, but aim? Not so much. 

“Not bad, Potter,” Lily said under her breath, appearing at his side and doing far too good of a job of sneaking up on him. “Maybe I won't go easy on you next time.”

“You talking to yourself now, Evans?” His eyes flickered over to her for a brief moment, but he kept the sight of her in his mind. “Last time I checked, your last name wasn’t Potter.”

“Glad you and Dunn have noticed,” she answered, shooting one of the pairs of students a smile at their attempts. “Any ideas for our next session?”

“I’ve always got ideas, Evans. Not sure if you would agree with any of them, though.”

“Oh? Why is that? Planning to dangle someone by their ankle?”

Her reference to a shared memory was not lost on him. “The fact that you brought that up first means that it was the very first idea that you had in mind. Not very practical, that.”

“Keeping my audience in mind,” she replied before halting to correct the wand position of one of the younger students. She returned to his side. “What wereyou thinking about?”

_You. I was thinking about_ you.

He shrugged. “At the rate they’re going, I don’t think we could do anything more complex yet, unfortunately. They’ll need more practice with disarming. We could eventually show them the Impediment jinx or a stunning spell. Definitely notthe Reductor Curse. Strangely, I don’t think it’ll play out well if we have to owl a parent to tell them their kid got blasted into bits.”

“You're right,” she admitted, and he wondered if it pained her to do so. One student dove to the floor to avoid a spell as they walked by another set of pairs. 

“ _Protego_ ,” Lily added as an afterthought, perhaps inspired by one of the students who threw their hands in front of themselves as a makeshift shield. He noticed that she was still watching the students instead of him and spinning her wand between her fingers absently. “They ought to know a versatile shield. My dad used to say the best offense is a good defence. It wins more games. He was talking about football, but I think it holds.”

He looked down at her, still stubbornly avoiding his gaze, and felt the smallest flicker of a smile growing before forcing his lips back into line. He turned his attention back to the kids. “Yeah. I reckon so. It’ll protect them from being blasted or stunned, at the very least.”

“Keeping them all in one piece is probably a requirement of the job.” 

She stopped again and turned on her heel to face the assembled students. “All right, everyone. Excellent work. Professor Potter and I will see you all here next week for a bit more practice. Try not to practice toomuch on each other without us around, yeah?” 

There was a shuffle of feet and hum of laughter in response.

“I disagree,” James countered.“If anything, it’ll help with your aim, and you’ll get better at disarming. Who knows? Maybe _Expelliarmus_ will end up being your signature move.” He flashed them a cocky grin. “Can’t get better without proper practice.”

She shifted away from him, not far enough to be noticed by distracted students but enough that he could feel the cool air between them. “No disarming of unsuspecting schoolmates. Control and consent in all of your practice sessions, please! We have dueling club to work out our frustrations. I'll see you all next week!” 

With that, the students left the room, but not before saying goodbye to the professors. The cheerful spirit that came in the door with the club members disappeared when the last student exited the room. 

James looked at Lily, who was still turned away from him. “Frustrations?” he repeated. “Whatever do you mean by that, Professor, when we dueled for less than a minute _?”_ He was trying to get a rise out of her, he knew, for whatever strange reason. 

No, he knewthe reason. 

It was the bloody frustration that had been welling up inside of him. He had never been one for rationality when it came to his feelings, especially when they were a complex mess of just about everythingthat a person could feel, as they were now.

“I only mean that our students shouldn't be using the things weteach them to go around having spontaneous practice sessions like some peopledid in their time at school.” Rather than facing him, she raised her wand to realign the chairs and clean up the room. 

“‘Course not. Didn’t say I advocated random _Expelliarmus_ attacks.”

“Then I'm glad we are on the same page.” She said everything with an air of efficiency, like it was another item on her to do list being crossed off. “You know, maybe we don't even have to meet this week to plan. We’ll review disarming next week and go from there.”

He shrugged. “Fine with me.” 

His heart told him that was a complete lie. He told his heart to fuck off.

“Fine,” Lily repeated, putting the last chair back into line with a sweep of her wand. She went to the doorway and stopped, as if it occurred to her that she missed an item on her list. “Good evening, Potter,” Lily said stiffly, though she still didn't meet his eyes.

He let her walk away without another word.

She would alwayshave the last word.

—

Sometimes it was hard to remember that James Potter was a prat. 

Without really meaning to, Lily found it easy to slip into their pattern of planning and conducting dueling club meetings. Sometimes they met in his office, and other times they met in hers. They didn't talk much about themselves and focused on what they came to do, which was fine by her. 

McGonagall was right, as she usually was, when she said they would make a good team. Lily couldn't deny the places where Potter covered her weaknesses and times when her strengths evened out his gaps. He was faster at finding exactly what they needed to reference in a book, while she could take detailed notes with enough organization to find important details later. He wrote out a list of hexes and jinxes they could teach, while Lily came up with her own list of charms that could prove useful.

During their meetings, she could almost forget the way the most annoying parts of him clawed their way under her skin and took a permanent residency. He was thoughtful, usually courteous, and didn't like to waste time, especially when they were in her office. 

Despite its location in the cold and dark dungeons, Lily made an effort to make her office as friendly and approachable as she could. Potion ingredients stayed locked away in the supply cupboard, and she decorated her space with various moving and muggle photographs. In the bottom drawer, she kept a quilt to throw over her legs when she stayed at her desk for long periods of time. If not for the stone walls and lack of windows, she might have thought her office was on another floor. 

This time, Potter sat on the other side of her desk, head bent over an old textbook. Lily's quill swayed back and forth, waiting for confirmation of what he was referencing. A pumpkin pasty sat between them, taunting her. He knewthey were her favorite, but they both knew he would winif she took his offering.

“I think it's fine,” she said after a moment. “No one is going to ask us about theory when they could be trying to trip their friends.” 

“Of course, they will. They need somesort of viable reason to give when their friend asks them, ‘Why did you trip me?’”

“Because Professor Potter told me to practice dueling club spells?” she offered, absently tracing a circle a few times on the edge of her parchment. 

“Not sure about Professor Evans here, but Professor Potter cares about his students getting better at their wand work.”

There it was. It was only a matter of time before he said something to remind her of why they couldn’t simply coexist. Lily rolled her eyes and let out a breath. “You can accuse me of a lot of things, Potter, but even you can't say I don't care about my students.”

“Didn’t say you didn’t care about the students, just the wand work.”

“Men always care much more about wand work,” she replied before she could fully remember whoshe was talking to. 

Was her mind also working with him to make her life that bit more complicated? With pink cheeks, she mumbled an excuse that wasn't even understandable to her.

He cocked an eyebrow at her before turning back to the book. “Didn’t see you complaining about it before.”

“Must you bring that up again?”

“Evans, you broughtthat up yourself.”

“It was an inappropriate joke. I’m _sorry_ ,” she replied, primly pulling the quilt higher on her lap. “It wasn’ta reminder of something we are not going to talk about.”

“It sure soundslike something you want to talk about. Has my wand work been bothering you, Professor?”

“It sounds like you want to talk about it. I'd liketo talk about our upcoming meeting, if that isn't too taxingfor you, Professor.”

James scoffed. “If you hadn’t noticed, that’s what we’ve been doing for the past hour.” 

“That's as long as your attention span lasts, is it?” 

“When itinvolves you, I don’t see why my attention span would be any longer.”

“Clearly,” she replied, her shoulders rising without her permission, “You don't quite have the stamina.”

“If you’re so intent on this meeting,” he said, “Then whymake reference after reference to this ‘something we are not going to talk about’?”

“I made one joke without thinking and regretted it immediately, because youcan't let anything go. As if you get to hold something over me for the rest of my life because—” She shook her head and stood, letting her quilt fall to the ground behind her desk. “I don't need to sit here and take this. I can finish the meeting agenda just fine on my own, thank you.”

“You don’t haveto sit here the entire time, but I’ll be waitinghere to help you finish, whether you like it or not.” He rose from his seat and walked toward her spot, towering over her with his ridiculously tall height. “Do you expect me to let you go like that? You’ve said it yourself: I can’t let anything go. Let me help you, Evans.”

“I can tell you to leave,” she snapped, forcing herself to meet his gaze as best as she could and not flinch from his height advantage. “I'll do it on my own. Without your help and without your little comments.”

“Believe it or not, Evans, you needme for this. I knowyou’ll end up getting stuck without me, so stop being so bloody stubborn and let me help.”

“I don't needyou for anything,” Lily swore, hoping the words were true. “I need to be able to think, and I can't do that when you're sitting there, judging every move I make.”

“Am I distracting you, Evans?” 

Of course,that was the only thing he could get from her words. They went straight to his head and inflated every part that told him he was irresistible, irreplaceable, and enough to ruin a girl for anyone else. 

“Your big head is,” she answered, relying on comments from years ago, from when he was just Potter and already knew how to get a reaction out of her. “There isn't enough room to think with that ego of yours in the way.”

“So youcan bring up the past, but once Ido, it’s entirely criminal?” He scoffed. “Tell me, Evans, how do you think it’s fair to poke at my teenage self like people don’t change when they grow up?”

“You haven't changed at all, Potter. You're still the same spoiled boy who can't understand why everyone doesn't want to talk about you all the time. Who doesn't get that we don't spend every minute figuring out how to please you!” Her voice nearly cracked, but she couldn't find the way to control it now. 

“You think thatlowly of me?” he said softly. She thought there might be hurt in his tone before chastising herself. She hadto have been imagining it, because he was looking at her with fiery eyes and a snapping voice. “I don’tunderstand a lot of things. I agreewith that. What I don’t agree with is what you think I’m not capable of grasping. I get that the world doesn’t bloody revolve around me. What I don’t understand is _you._ I don’t understand you at all.”

“You don't have to understand me, Potter,” she replied sharply. “You just have to treat me like any other professor, which you seem particularly incapable of, for some reason!”

“Do you reallythink I could just treat you like another professor?” He was fuming now. “I can’t.Look at our past, Evans. I can’t do that.”

“Well, figure it out,” she answered, hands in stubborn fists at her sides.

His jaw visibly clenched, and she swore that for the briefest moment, a slight sign of affection flickered in his eyes before disappearing into their depths. “Maybe I will.”

Without anywarning, Lily felt his hands at her waist, pulling her against his body. He was still warm despite the ever-present chill of the room, and his hands were hot through the material of her robes, making her fully aware of everywhere he touched her. James enveloped her in his arms, protecting her more effectively than any quilt and killing any retort she might have had on her tongue. 

She didn't have time to prepare, but it didn’t matter. Nothing could have prepared her for the intensity of his lips on hers. They didn't need the burn of alcohol to light a fuse in her veins. His kiss was enough to make her whole body feel alight and make every nerve fire in a burst of euphoria. To make her head swim pleasantly until she couldn't think of anything but _this_ moment and _this_ kiss.

There was undeniable strength in his arms but gentleness in his fingertips. He held her tight against him, tracing a slow pattern around her hip bone. If her robe wasn't in the way, she wouldn't be surprised if his touch had burned and left a scathing mark on her skin. 

Her mouth met his with the same intensity, throwing the energy from all of their arguments into this heated exchange. Her arms found a place around his neck to lift herself up to meet him, as of she couldn't belong anywhere else. As if she didn’twant to belong anywhere else. He groaned against her lips and took a step forward. Her back collided deliciously with the stone wall, but she didn't feel its chill— didn’t _care_ about its chill. 

She kissed him like it would save her from drowning, and he kissed her like she held a secret he needed to know. 

Everything was warm. It made the need to get his skin against her own grow within her until she was afraid that she might burst. _James_ was too warm, and she was suddenly struck with the fact that thatthis was the first time she called him that in her head since their unspoken meeting, but she couldn't think of anything else.

_James, James, James_.

What did their argument matter? What upset her enough to stop her from doing this everyday? What had they been— 

What the hell was she doing?

Lily's hands flew out of his hair like it actually burned her. She jerked back, pulling herself out of the James-induced fog when she remembered there was a wall behind her. Her heart galloped in her chest as she took ragged breaths. It felt like she would never get enough oxygen, like she would never be able to make sense of the world again.

“What was that?” she asked roughly, her throat raw.

His eyes hardened, his face cold as if they hadn’t done what she knew they had. The only indication that it happened, besides the tingling memory on her lips, was the way his chest heaved up and down like hers in an attempt to catch his breath. “Do I need to show you again?”

A familiar prickle of annoyance grounded her, bringing her back to why it was so impossible that Potter could have shoved her against a wall and convinced her to likeit. “No,” she answered. His arms kept her against the wall, unable to escape the office and her swimming head. “You know what I meant. Why did you—”

His face was still close to her own, and she could feel his warm breath across her skin. “Why did you kiss me back, Evans?” 

“I—” She couldn't say she didn't, since they both could see through that lie, but she couldn't see an advantage to admitting it either. She needed to think, and she couldn't do that with his arms around her. “What are you trying to prove, Potter? What are you trying to do by—” The word stuck in her throat.

“Trying to figure you out, like you wantedme to.” He cocked his head to the side, the beginnings of a slight, lopsided smirk forming. “Turns out that you might not hate me as much as you like to make me to think.”

His smirk made her heart race for a new reason, bringing with it a pounding in her head that made her think a blood vessel might burst. It made her move in his hold, pushing his shoulders away from her. “I want you to leave,” she said sharply, trying to inject as much venom as she could into the words.

“Do you really?Or do you want something else?” He was taunting her, she could tell, because that smirk—that _infuriating_ smirk—was progressively getting wider with every passing second.

“Don't make the mistake of thinking we want the same thing, Potter,” she answered, forcing her voice to stay even. His smirk was a weapon, sharpened to make her struggle. She would have to turn her words into weapons for her own defense. “I want you to go.”

“Yeah?”

This was another game to him. Another way he could assert how much better he thought he was than her. Lily wasn't going to let him trick her.

“Yes,” she said coldly, tilting her chin back.

He cocked his head at her. “I don’t think you really want me to go.”

“What you think isn't my problem.”

He out a light chuckle. Potter likedher reaction, if his smirk and laughter meant anything. He liked how it made her want to shove him away but also planted something in her head that made it hard to do just that. At least, that's what she triedto convince herself. Something— possibly affection or even pain— flickered across his eyes that didn’t quite match his expression, but she pushed that thought aside.

“You’re forcingyourself to push me away,” he insisted. “If I were to do it again, would you pull away? Or would you kiss me back?” 

“I want you to go,” she repeated stubbornly, making it the only thing that mattered. It _was_ the only thing that mattered. “I want you to leave and never tell a soul about this.”

She watched another flash of emotion flicker across his eyes. Potter relented, giving in to her words and letting his hands fall limply to his side. His jaw clenched, and he looked determinedly toward the ground. “Fine.”

She leaned more heavily against the wall than she would have liked, but the thought of standing, only to sway on her feet in front of him, was worse. He would notice if her knees didn't know how to support her.

The dungeon was cold without his arms around her. Lily tugged her robe around herself tightly and could finally hear her own thoughts again. She pushed off the wall and went to the desk to close his textbook, silently presenting it to him.

He took it from her hands and walked toward the door in brisk silence. He hesitated by the entrance, as if he was contemplating saying anything else. The creak of the door, however, marked his decision against saying any more, filling the otherwise still air with a slam.

It didn't feel any better when she let him have the last word.


	6. Chapter 6

James found it hard to sleep that night, plagued as he was by his messy emotions. All of them came back to one little thing.

He gave in. He _kissed_ her.

His feelings for her, which emerged from within at a threatening pace, balled together and exploded like a supernova as they grew with each encounter with Lily. Even though he tried to convince himself that getting her to hate him was the best approach, there was still a part of him that was screaming at how much of a bloody _idiot_ he was for pushing her away.

Now that she managed to show that she c _ould_ hate him, he didn’t want it at all.

He thought that if he caved just one more time— _one_ more time shouldn’t hurt— then the feelings could be transferred into the kiss and out of his system. 

Seeing that she responded with equal vigor, with equal _passion,_ though, he assumed that she liked it, enjoyed it, savouredit. The cocky part of him fueled by her response came out, just to bite him in the arse later.

She gave him small signs that she didn’t actually hate him, but with each word that they exchanged after he made that move, he felt less and less assured of her true feelings. He was soconvinced that she wanted more of it, just as hewanted more. But when she made no attempt to pick it back up again and pushed him away instead, the ebbing pride that he had left disappeared into nothingness. 

Shame took its place.

Lots and lotsof shame.

Kissing a woman without warning, even if she didseem to enjoy it, filled him with so much of that despairing emotion that there wasn’t much room for anything else. If he still wanted her to hate him, he had probably done enough to achieve that.

No matter his persistence, she wanted him out of her office. That was clear enough. 

And yet, he still tried to delude himself into thinking that she wanted otherwise. That thought made pain shoot through the cracks in his heart, ready to pump the hurt throughout the rest of his body as if it was blood waiting to be circulated. 

He could wipe at his mouth all he wanted, but it wouldn’t erase the fact that he truly gave in to the tiresome demands of his heart. The experience itself took him back to his final year at Hogwarts, only instead of laughing over how wonderfultheir kiss was, they fought until they both got a painful headache. 

The difference between then and now was that he hadn’t known the trueextent to which his feelings for her were hopeless. A waste of time. 

No matter his persistence, she wanted him out of her office. That was clear enough. 

He would, James decided, have to avoid her under all circumstances. The next meeting for Dueling Club wasn’t happening until the end of the week, and he knew Lily enough to know that she would have written out the agenda for that day. She wouldn’t want a reason to have to talk to him any more than necessary.

Of course, it didn’t help that the next Order of the Phoenix meeting was coming up soon. If James’s luck held and Dumbledore was involved, then it was safe to assume that he recruited her for it as well. 

When he went to the meeting, making it a little earlier than the scheduled time, he wasn’t toosurprised to see that she was already seated at the table, speaking softly to Kingsley Shacklebolt. His heart gave a lurch at the sight of her, and he absolutely _hated_ it. 

Kingsley made quick notice of him and greeted him. “Afternoon, Potter.”

Lily said nothing, but her eyes locked on him all the same, almost as if she could see the way she twisted his heart. Her grim expression confirmed that she had a similar path to her thoughts as he did. She didn't exactly plan to run into him here but wasn't surprised at his arrival. 

He nodded in acknowledgement. “Shacklebolt.” To hide the fact that anything was amiss, he nodded in Lily’s general direction as well, making sure that he avoided any eye contact. “Evans.”

“Potter,” she answered quietly with her hands hidden under the table.

They were both saved from further greetings or explanations by a burst of chatter from outside the room and the arrival of the person he needed to see most, Sirius. He didn't hesitate by the door and went directly to James’s side, not sparing a glance at Lily or making any indication that he noticed her.

If only it were that easy.

“Prongs,” Sirius greeted, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Ready to finish school again?”

“I’d bloody killfor a break,” he muttered, glad that he got at least somerelief now that he was reunited with his best mate once again. Talking through a mirror justwasn’t the same as talking in person.

“That's what you get for taking a jobon top of everything else, mate. How are you supposed to— Hold on.” Sirius stopped and focused on the one person James wanted to do his best to avoid. “What the fuck is Evans doing here?”

“Took over Sluggy’s job,” he replied simply, unable to help the slight edge in his voice. He quickly made for a topic change. “Work is bloody exhausting, yeah, but I like the change in scenery— most of it, at least.” 

“Is _she_ part of the scenery?” Sirius asked, knowing exactly where to hit, as always.

“Naturally, yeah.” He shifted uncomfortably.

“Which part is she?”

“Which part is she _not,_ is the real question.” He sighed. “Things are complicated between the two of us.”

Sirius let out a long breath at James’s crypticness. “Only you, Prongs, would find the girl you've been obsessed with since school at a bar and end up workingwith her a week later.” Thankfully, everyone else was too busy greeting each other and settling in to pay them any mind. “I knewyou couldn't do a one night stand. You're too soft.”

“I’m not bloody soft,” he snapped, and he ran a frustrated hand through his hair at how both of them saw through _that_ lie. “Ask Evans. She’ll tell you that I’m the biggest load of crap to have ever been dumped into her existence.”

“What have you done since that day you told me to fuck off because you couldn't stop touching each other?”

“Remember fifth year James?” Sirius cocked an eyebrow in acknowledgement. “Yeah. He’s made a comeback, only this time he’s a cold piece of shit.”

Sirius shook his head and lifted a hand to beckon Remus and Peter when they appeared in the doorway. “What is it about Evans?” he asked, though it might have been mostly rhetorical. 

“You could say that again,” he mumbled. He refrained from adding more to the matter, not wanting to admit anything else in such a public place. Any feelings that he might have had about Lily were to be disclosed in the discretion of his office after dark, face-to-mirror.

He was saved, thankfully, by the arrivals of Dumbledore and McGonagall, along with the hush that followed them when they walked into the room. Sirius looked away from him, though he doubted the subject was truly dropped. 

“Thank you all for coming. I will keep this brief so everyone may return to their tasks.” Dumbledore nodded and continued when no one interrupted him. “We have some information about possible Death Eater links. We will have a few people investigate each to see if we can connect or confirm their position.” 

A few pieces of parchment were pushed across the table to some of the members, who referenced them as Dumbledore started going through assignments, though there was little information on the sheets. They couldn't have anyone tracking what they were doing, after all.

“Lily and James,” Dumbledore continued. James couldn't help but sit up at the sound of his own name and the one that was linked to it. “Will be investigating one of the Hogwarts governors, Lucius Malfoy, from their new positions at the school.”

_Lily and James..._

_Fuck._

Would he ever catch a break?

“Marlene and Benjy will look into his connections at the Ministry. Sirius and Peter…”

Lily's quill only paused for a second before she finished whatever she was writing and sat back in her chair with a neutral expression. He couldn’t help it. With everything that happened not even twenty four hours ago, he couldn’thelp but rise from the edge of his seat, attracting the attention from everyone in the room. 

“Mate, sit down,” Remus whispered harshly, but there was no need for a quiet voice, because everyonewas watching him.

James ignored his friend. “Sorry to interrupt, Professor Dumbledore, but did you say Evans and I are working together?”

Dumbledore’s eyebrows raised, but if he was truly surprised at the interruption, he didn’t show it. “Do you have a problem, Mr. Potter?”

Of coursehe had a problem with that. 

“Evans has only just joined the Order. Shouldn’t she be trained on the basics before going on any sort of mission? To reduce the possibility of getting hurt?”

“We are assigning teams for just that reason: to make sure everyone has the resources they need. I hoped, Mr. Potter, that you would be able to assist Miss Evans in whatever she needs to learn.”

“I’m not sure,” he replied, shrugging. “Miss Evanshere seems to already be under the notion that she doesn’t need any assistance and can do everything on her own. At least to me, it seems.”

“I don't have a problem with it, sir,” Lily said, breaking her silence. “I wouldn't question your judgment in the middleof our meeting.” Her expression was still neutral, but he suspected that some of her temper lurked under her smooth features. 

“Wonderful. Then, Mr. Potter, have you any other objections?”

He sat down. “I reckon I don’t.”

Dumbledore nodded. “Then we may proceed.”

Despite Dumbledore going through more information, he couldn’t focus for the rest of the meeting.

It all led to oneredhead, who was now going to be even more involved in his life than she’d been before.

_Fuck._

—

Of course.

Of course, Potter was a member of the Order of the Phoenix, a selective organization that tried to work outside of official channels to fight back against the surging war. Of course, that was the reason he was here, same as she was. And, of course, Dumbledore needed them both to work on the same task, when McGonagall had already found another way to shove them together.

Eventually, she would stop being surprised when the universe intentionally made things difficult for her. Not yet, though, apparently.

This time, they met in his office since it led directly to his classroom, which would give them room if she needed to learn any 'Order basics’, as he’d called them, while they talked.

If it could help them root out a Death Eater, she could survive the most insufferable of James’ behavior, she told herself.

What didn't help was the new rash of rumors that made their way to her. James already mentioned that older students speculated based on what they remembered from five years ago, but now she was hearing something being told second or thirteenth-hand herself.

This rumor was worse because it had a grain of truth hidden inside it. Someone mentioned seeing Professor Potter leaving Professor Evans’ office, which was true and explainable enough since they co-organized a club together, but she actually knew what happened the last time they were in the same place alone. 

Exactly what they thought.

Acting suspiciously or defensively would only give weight to the rumors, wouldn't it? She had to continue, at least where anyone could see her, to act like nothing was wrong.

Lily knocked and impatiently fiddled with the strap of her bag while she waited for his answer. 

The door opened soon afterwards, revealing Potter, whose hair was dripping and clinging to his neck, along with a strong scent that indicated that he just showered. He regarded her with the same coldness that she learned to expect from him. Maybe all that warmththat she felt from the incident (which she wouldn’t let herself think about) was only in her head.

“Evans,” he acknowledged her while managing not to look directly at her.

She stepped inside. “We’d better start then,” Lily said, once the door was shut behind her. There was very little she wanted people overhearing when it came to personal conversations between her and Potter, but people couldn’t overhear this one for even more dire reasons. “Since I need so much instruction on the basics to be worthy of an assignment.” The sarcasm came almost second-nature now, an instant response to the way he looked at her and thought he could tug at her thoughts and emotions.

He didn’t take the bait, and she couldn’t decide whether she was thankful or annoyed. James seated himself at his desk, running a quick hand over his wet hair. “I’ve got some records of Malfoy’s that we could sort through. See if anything suspicious comes up.” 

“Sounds great,” she answered flatly, dropping her bag by the chair on the other side of his desk and taking a seat. 

“Don’t think ‘great’ is the best word to use when describing potential Death Eaters, but whatever floats your boat, I guess.” He sounded bored in his response.

“ _Great_ ,” she repeated, exasperated, though she bit back anything else. She took the top folder on his desk and flipped it open, deciding to sit back in her chair to be as far away as possible in their confined space.

The sooner she found a connection, the sooner she could leave.

He clearly didn’t get the message that she was trying to send his way. “Lost your dictionary today? Or are you, for whatever reason, under the illusion that everything is ‘great’ today?”

“Dunno,” Lily replied, scanning the first sheet in the folder and not otherwise acknowledging him. If she didn’t give him a reaction, he couldn’t get a rise, and she wouldn’t have to think about the way their last fight ended.

“Must be the former, then,” he mumbled. “That, or you’ve lost just about all the bite that made you interesting.”

What did she care if he found her _interesting_?

Clearly all that did was get a few months of teenage secrecy, one night in his apartment, and a series of harsh comments without an end in sight. 

And, who could forget, a lingering kiss when that wasn’t quite _interesting_ enough.

“Mhm,” she hummed, rereading the same sentence to see if she could gather more meaning the second time. 

He breathed deeply out of his nose and loudly turned the page in his folder when his attempts to provoke her were unsuccessful.

After a few minutes and useless pages, Lily’s shoulders relaxed. She could almost fool herself into thinking she was reading by herself and didn’t have to mind the person sitting across from her. He could be absorbed in his own task without the need to draw constant attention to the fact that he couldn’t stand her.

When she reread the same line this time, she flipped back a few pages to confirm her memory. She leaned forward and shoved the open folder across his desk. “Check Malfoy’s Ministry donation history,” Lily said, turning the folder to face him properly. “I don’t know anything about this Rookwood bloke, but he’s taken nearly half of them. What is an Unspeakable doing, wasting his time collecting Ministry payments? What would Malfoy be paying him for?”

If he was impressed by her, he didn’t show it. 

“Unfortunately, we don’t have access to that sort of information. Confidentiality or whatever.” He rolled his eyes, and she wasn’t sure if it was at her or his words. “Unless the Ministry’s willing to take bribes, we can’t get our hands on his history, especially not when he has enough money to make sure that it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.”

“Maybe they _are_ taking bribes, and that’s exactly what this Unspeakable is accepting,” she answered, her words getting faster as she talked. “We can’t confirm it. Who’s going to write in a Ministry file that it’s really a bribe? But that’s suspicious, isn’t it?”

“That’s the thing,Evans. He’d make sure that his purchase history would stay hidden if it really was something illegal. The fact that it’s there for anyone with access to his records to see shows that it can’t be anything like that.” He stopped, thinking. “If it’s there, it’s either to throw us off his track, or he’s spent his money on something lavish to put up in his manor.”

“ _Or_ ,” she replied, eager to hang onto her first clue that could potentially turn into a lead, “He’s an over-confident, pureblood man who is so used to getting what he wants that he doesn’t think anyone will question him.” 

She wasn’t sure if she was still talking about Malfoy or the pureblood sitting across from her. 

“He’s a pureblood, yes, but that doesn’t make him a bloody idiot _._ He’s been in the trade longer than I’ve been out of Hogwarts. He knowswhat he’s doing. Trust me when I say that he’s trying to mislead anyone who could be on his trail.”

“I’ve seen men be bolder with less cause,” she insisted. “It’s worth flagging, so someone can look into it. Even if it’s a dead end, at least we tried _something_.” 

She didn’t know how good the information was or if it would lead to any link, but it was better than anything else they found. Was it so hard for him to believe that it was possiblethat she found something, even if she wasn’t the Order pro he thought of himself as?

He sighed, clearly unconvinced. “I’ll let Dumbledore know about it, then.”

“Great,” she said with some force behind the word, taking the folder back and opening it to a page she hadn’t reviewed. “What’s the best way to speak to Dumbledore about Order things, by the way? Obviously, it can’t be for just anyone to hear, but I can’t imagine that professors get a private audience with him that often.”

He looked at her strangely, his eyebrows scrunched together in the lightest manner. “You go to his office and guess the password to get in. What are you on about?”

“You _guess_ the password? Pick a time and hope he’s around to entertain whatever we find? Is that how you’re going to tell him about our possible lead?”

“I don’t have a bloody trackeron the bloke,” he snapped. “It’s worked for me in the past, and if he isn’t there, then we can send a message to him. It’s not as complex as you make it out to be.”

“Guess I still need to learn the basics,” she answered. “Even though I’m apparently under the misguided assumption that I can do everything just fine on my own. Even though I’m the one here, asking a bloody question, which only gets me an answer like I said something offensive.”

“Isn’t that what you said? That you’re completelycapable of doing everything? You asked your bloody question, and you got a bloody answer _._ I’m sorrythat you take everything that comes toward you to heart.” 

Her temper could only take so much. “Does Dumbledore know he hired a complete git? Or is this special treatment reserved only for me?”

“You’re resorting to name-callingnow? Whatever happened to your ‘great’ usage? Have you found your dictionary again?”

Lily stood, her chair grating against the stone floor as it slid back. “What’s the point of me even being here? You’re not going to take anything I find seriously anyway, so I might as well take half the files and look on my own.”

“Are we reallydoing this again?”

“Doing whatagain? You can read your half, Potter, and I’ll read mine.”

“Workingtogether,” he said. “Only for you to end up wanting to get away from me before we finish for the night.”

“Oh, this was working _together_?” Lily let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “From what you were saying, I was under the impression that I was just bothering you with my far-fetched theories about the man we think is a fucking _Death Eater._ I wasn’t aware that this is what it’s supposed to be like to work _together_ with you.”

“When did I ever bloody say _that?_ Did you expect me to nod along and tell you how much of a bloody geniusI thought you were because you made a connection that I’d never have realised on my own accord?”

“‘It can’t be anything like that, Evans,’” she taunted, lowering her voice and throwing his paraphrased lines back at him. She was tired of giving him the chance to make her feel small, tired of him thinking that she was nothing more than a silly girl he could shove aside because her presence was inconvenient for him. “‘It’s just to throw us off, Evans,’, ‘He’s not a bloody idiot, Evans.’ Or maybe this one: ‘Trust me, Evans, it’s just there to mislead stupid little girls like you!’”

Something flickered in his eyes. “Right, it’s completelybecause every time I challenge you— like I do with every Order member I’ve worked with— it automatically means that I think you’re in the wrong. Stopbloody putting words in my mouth and getting offended by everything your imagination decides to come up with on the spot if it puts me in a bad light.”

“I don’t see you telling McGonagall that she’s wasting your time. You don’t act like Flitwick is only talking to you because he wants to annoy you. You step out of the way for Binns, and he’s a bloody _ghost_.” As was becoming increasingly common whenever she was in the same room as him, she felt her voice and blood pressure rise together. “You’re a completely different person with me, and I’m _sick_ of it. Ever since you saw me at the first staff meeting, you’ve decided to make it your personal mission to make me feel as unwelcome as possible. As if being a decent human to me is too damn hard for you.”

He laughed humorlessly. “So we are going back to that conversation. Do you want me to kiss you next? Then, you can properly kick me out of _my_ office, and this bloody back-and-forth cycle that we’ve been going through will start all over again. That’s what you want, isn’t it? To make zero progress in everything we do?”

“I don’t want you to _kiss me_. I want you to treat me like a person,” she snapped, cheeks burning. She couldn’t remember _anything_ that made her feel like this, except James Potter. Her temper hovered under the surface, but it usually wasn’t this quick to rise. “I tried to make it possible for us to be in the same room and do our jobs, but you won’t even give me a chance.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the world isn’t fair, Evans. I’m sorrythat you feel, for some reason, that I have some sort of problem every time we meet.”

“That doesn’t mean _you_ have to treat me like this because the world is going to shit.” It was more than she planned to admit, more vulnerable than she planned to be in front of him, but now that she started, Lily wasn’t sure she would be able to stop. “That night, you were happy to see me, even before— You said I was good company, right before I left. What could have happened between then and our first day? What could have— Do you really think that I’m not worth decent treatment anymore?”

Her words seem to have finally gotten to him, as if they were driving a nail into his hand. His eyes noticeably dimmed, and a silence hung between them for a heavy beat. “Evans,” he started, swallowing deeply, “I didn’t—”

“Right. Of course,” she remarked, not wanting to hear what he had to say. An uncomfortable heat settled behind her eyes, but she wouldn’t let _that_ weakness show in front of him. “It’s late.” She grabbed her bag from the floor and turned her back to him. 

She barely registered the sound of his chair scraping against the floor. “Evans, I—” 

“Good night, Potter,” she said to the door, as if to prove that her voice wouldn’t shake.

She felt no victory, this time, in having the last word.


	7. Chapter 7

James couldn’t sleep that night.

How _could_ he sleep, knowing too well that the damage that he’d done during his meeting with Lily was irreversible?

There was a line, one that James made sure to never cross. Yet that was the very thing that he did: overstepped the boundary in a way that would surely leave a scar on his already-deteriorating relationship with her.

He regretted it. Regretted _everything_ that flew out of his mouth. He didn’t mean for it to go this far. He didn’t mean to _hurt_ her.

An apology had to be put into action, but he couldn’t find it in himself to confront her.

If he came out to eat an hour after the scheduled lunch time, he decided, then he probably wouldn’t have to worry about running into her. At least, not until he had time to figure out what he could possibly say to her to make things better.

His plans were quickly foiled, though, when he felt her bumpinto his chest.

_Fuck._

What wasit with them and physically running into one another?

“Potter,” Lily said quietly, taking a step back and brushing off her robe. Her eyes were sharp as always, but she didn't say anything to match them. “Sorry.”

James half-expected her to respond with bite once again, but whether it was from lack of energy or the confusing messages that he sent in her direction, she didn’t. It made it all the more puzzling to see some of her usual spark missing. 

“Have you eaten yet, Evans?” he said in the thick silence. Of course,he knew the answer. She was well on her way to the Great Hall, just as he had been. 

“No, I got caught up prepping for my NEWT class this afternoon and— ” She started fidgeting with the ends of her hair, a habit of hers that he remembered from their time in school. “Headed there too, I see?”

He nodded. “Walk together?”

She considered him for a moment, likely comparing every idea of him in her head with every interaction they had since seeing each other again. “All right, Potter.” Assuming he would fall into step beside her, she started walking again toward the Great Hall.

The air between them was tense. 

While he was sure that her anger still lingered from the fight, she hadn’t blown up in his face— not _yet,_ at least. He shoved his hands in his pockets in an attempt to refrain from tugging at his hair, and he wasn’t at all sure of what to say to her. To make friendly conversation would only disregard the words that they shared yesterday and the many days before, but to pick up where they left off was an idea that could only end badly.

“How are you, Evans?” Cool, brisk, and straightforward. It wasn’t the best choice, perhaps, but when put in a situation like this, he wasn’t sure what that could have been. There was nothing else that he could say to help ease the tension. 

Her jaw stiffened, but she made no other indication that she recognized his tone. “Just fine. Students seem to think I made a decent impression.” 

“Just decent?” He tried to inject some of the light teasing from their earlier days in his tone. “Expected more than decent from you.” 

Lily didn’t react. 

Internally, he couldn’t help but reflect on how similar this was to the rounds that they did together as Head Boy and Prefect. The major difference was that now, there were far fewer smiles and less laughter. In his final year, walks around the castle with Lily lifted burdens from his shoulders. They didn’t weigh him down with guilt and regret, like they did now.

“It’s only my first term, but I'm not horrible,” she answered, quoting an infamous word from their initial fight with the bite clear in her tone, though she didn't even glance at him. “I suppose they've already made a fan club for you? The greatest Defence professor to ever live?”

He shrugged. “Don’t know anything about that second part.” 

They lapsed into silence again, only interrupted by the soft sounds of their footfalls against the old stone floor, and James knew that he had to talk now, or he’d never know when the next opportunity would come.

He dared to glance over at her.

“Listen, Evans, we need to talk.” 

“Do we now?” She crossed her arms, hugging her elbows in a way that betrayed some of the carelessness in her tone.

James nodded. “Contrary to popular belief, I don’t actually like fighting with you.”

“Could have fooled me.” She looked down the corridor, possibly checking that no one was around to overhear them. “What do _you_ think we need to talk about?”

“Me. Us. Everything _.”_ His words fell rushed and nearly incoherent. _“_ Anythingthat you can think of that involves me being an arse.”

A weak laugh escaped as she came to a stop. _“Now_ we’ll talk about it? After you—” She shook her head and, with another glance down the hall, stopped by a classroom. Quickly, she pushed the door open enough to check that no one was inside and put her fingers on his wrist to pull him in behind her. 

As soon as they were alone, she dropped his wrist, as if any prolonged contact might poison her, and shut the door quietly. “Fine. We’ll talk.”

He nodded, thankful that she was giving him time. “First of all, I’m sorry,” he said right away, and he scratched his head awkwardly. “Truly, genuinely sorry for everything that I’ve ever done to you. I didn’t mean to hurt you the way that I did. It’s no excuse, but I didn’t expect to see you the first day. Not when the last time we saw each other, we’d—” 

“Is that it? Is that what you thought?” Lily wavered, the anger in her eyes battling with something else— something far more dangerous. “The night happened, so that's all I am? Some girl you can fling around comments about? Comments you can use to—”

No. 

No, no, no, no, no, _no._

“Evans.” His eyes widened, and his shoulders fell. “I don’t think you’re—” 

“I know what they say about me, Potter,” she interrupted, some of the fire that looked like _her_ back in her eyes, only he wasn’t sure that was an entirely good thing. “Because I'm twenty and sometimes pretty and dare to not be ashamed that I'm a woman. I thought _you_ wouldn't be like that. Was I that _wrong_?” Her voice broke on the last word.

He wanted to undo all of it. To erase everything he said to her since the term started. To have never gone to that bloody bar. To go allthe way back to that day in the prefect’s compartment when he decided that he would give in to his feelings and kiss her.

Go back to anytime, really, if it meant that changing the past would change the sudden shift in the atmosphere. He couldn’t believe that he had really thought it was the best option to take on a cold demeanor around her, because now it was obvious that it wasn’t worth the pain that he was inflicting.

He never meant to reduce their argument to near-tears. He hadn’t meant to reduce _her_ the way he did, like she wasn’t a human with feelings as complex as his.

He’d been thoughtless. He hadn’t taken her feelings into consideration. He thought she didn’t see him as anything more than a fling, a little part of her past, so he pushed it down so it wouldn’t hurt. He thought— 

No, he needed to _stop._ He hadn’t thought _anything._ He wasn’t thinkingproperly.

“No. You’re not wrong,” he said quietly. 

Lily hugged herself and stubbornly met his gaze. “Then _what_?”

He couldn’t bring himself to maintain his coldness anymore, but he didn’t know how to explain his behavior without bringing his feelings into the loop. “I just— There’s just a lot to take in, you know? Coming back to Hogwarts. It almost feels like I’m returning because summer’s coming to an end. It’s like I’m expected to pick up right where I stopped. The last time I was here, there was so much happening that I’m so _overwhelmed._ ” His hand flew to his hair of its own accord. “I’m not making any sense.”

“No, you aren’t,” she agreed, looking down at her toes. “I didn't know you were going to be here.” Lily shook her head, the range of emotions her body went through in the last few minutes tiring her. It knocked down some of her walls. “But I thought, when I tried to talk to you after the meeting, that it could be a good thing. We could help each other and be friends or… something. But you...”

“I was an arse, yeah. There’s no denying that.” He would take the blame because he deserved it. “Evans, I hope you know that I didn’t mean any of the shit I said. The good parts, like how I hoped for you to be the best, I meant that, of course, but not any of the hurtful things.” He paused briefly, letting his words soak in. “I think so highly of you. I don’t believe any of that rubbish you said about how being a woman or what you’ve done with anyone makes you any less worthy than anyone else.”

“Then why...?” She cut herself off, lifting her chin and shaking her head. “You can’t dothat to me, Potter. You can’t treat me like that and expect— you _can’t_.”

“I’m sorry, Evans. Really, I’m an arse and the biggest bloody idiot and I didn’t—”

“Fine.” 

The word was blunt and came out in a breath he didn’t know she was holding. He blinked at her, and she continued. “Fine. I— Apology accepted. I'll trust that you were overwhelmed or _whatever_.” She met his gaze again, and there was a new light in her eye, one he remembered from when she thought she was clever. She wasn’t quite smiling, but she looked happier—or, at least, less _unhappy_ — than he had seen her since the term started. 

He wasn’t sure if he should dare to breathe, worried it might snap the moment.

“This is your warning, Potter. You’re not going to— We're going to have to deal with each other all term, so we better start getting used to it.” She brushed hair away from her eyes and considered him for a moment. 

“Right,” he replied dumbly, waiting for the next shoe to drop.

“How about this?” Lily tilted her chin back. “You'll try to be less of an arse, and I'll try to stop making assumptions about your intentions.” She stuck her hand out to him, the corner of her mouth turning in a half-smirk. “Deal?”

He stared at her hand. She was farmore forgiving than he ever deserved, he knew. Then again, he should have remembered that Lily Evans always managed to find the best in everyone, no matter how terribly she was treated. 

She could have given him more shit, but for a reason unbeknownst to him, she didn’t.

James’s eyes flickered up to her face. Slowly, he stepped toward her. Instead of putting his hand in hers like she prompted, however, he moved closer and engulfed her in a hug, her body radiating warmth at their contact. 

“Deal,” he murmured, his hands smoothing over the creases on the back of her robes and nose taking in the aromatic scent of her detergent. 

Lily froze for a few seconds before her fingers touched his sides tentatively. 

“Deal,” she echoed.

Deal, deal, deal, deal, _deal._

_—_

Forgiving James was… 

Complicated.

Maybe, like he tried to say, it all started as a misunderstanding. They were both shocked to find themselves in the same room so soon after seeing each other for the first time in years. The wires in their brains didn’t know how to function properly. They both said things they regretted, things they shouldn’t have let slip from their mouths.

His initial reaction was coldness, and hers was attacking the problem directly.

Her father might have said the best offence was a good defence, but, in this case, she had been more inclined to send the offence out and see if they could report back. 

Maybe it was less intentional, less stinging than she assumed. James didn’t live with the constant, conflicting expectations that came with being a young woman in the world. He didn’t know what his words would make her think, didn’t know the way other people used them as weapons. 

It didn’t excuse his behavior, certainly, but his apology could still had been true. 

No matter the reason, it still didn’t touch the main reason she found herself so quick to accept his apology when it was offered. She could debate the issue forever in her head, but that didn’t change one thing. 

She _wanted_ to forgive him. 

She wanted them to be the way they were in the bar, teasing and friendly, remembering each other without the barbs and complications of their past. She wanted to have a person she could rely on, someone who knew what it was like to be in a new but familiar place, someone she could talk to without feeling the weight of expectation that mentors like Professor McGonagall inspired.

She wanted what she told him. The chance to be actual friends and not just hormonal teenagers who shoved each other into small spaces whenever they had the chance. Not co-workers who couldn’t have a conversation without it turning into veiled insults and raised voices.

He used to make her laugh, even when it was late and they were on rounds and she wanted to sleep more than anything. He used to make her feel clever and bright, even when she felt useless and exhausted, and that part of him still had to be in there somewhere. He defended her against his best mate, even when they were nothing more than a one night stand and trip down memory lane to each other.

He couldn’t be so different from what she remembered. 

Wanting to forgive him meant she would do it when given the chance. She wouldn’t let him walk over her again or whittle down her self-confidence, but she could make them start again. Make them get it closer to right this time.

Dueling club was a good place to start.

Their students seemed to like it. A few of them stopped her after class or in the corridors to excitedly chatter about the upcoming meetings. They would tell stories of practicing the spells in their common rooms and vow that they were only using them for the purest of purposes. She would laugh and tease them, reminding them that their friends were _also_ in dueling club and might have a shot at getting back at them if they went _too_ far.

Today was one of the lessons where she had taken the lead. The students knew how to disarm and stun so, in her mind, the next thing was teaching them to defend. A duel would end quickly if neither party knew how to protect themselves from a sudden blast.

Lily paced while she waited, but this time it lacked some of the nervous energy from their first meeting. It was more to keep her moving and keep her mind going, while she rehearsed the best way to instruct the students on the proper wand movement. She practiced it herself a few times without a wand in her hand to make sure it looked natural and confident.

“All right, Evans?” James asked her, looking up at her.

She stopped, her hand frozen in the middle of her rehearsal of the spell. “I’m all right,” she answered, lowering her hand to smooth her robes. “Have to be all right with it not being perfect, but…” Lily shrugged and took a few steps toward him, resolved to stop her pacing.

He shook his head at her. “If you looked up the word ‘perfect’ in the dictionary, you’d see _Lily Evans_ as the definition. You’re fine. More than fine.”

“You know, it’s possible to be honest and not a prat at the same time,” she replied, though she mostly failed to fight back a smile. “Honesty’s an admirable quality.”

“Wasn’t lying though.”

She was saved from saying more by the predictable wave of students. The first group always came like this, straight from dinner and theorizing about what they might do in the lesson that night, loudly talking over each other and announcing their presence. 

“Hello, everyone,” she greeted, turning away from James and adopting her professor voice, which was mostly like her regular voice but more projected and even. “You can start getting out the cushions like last time, in case there are any accidents.”

“Today we’ll be going over the Shield Charm,” James continued once they’d gathered their cushions. “The incantation is _Protego,_ and the wand movement is pretty simple. That is, unless you can’t physically cast your wand down in a straight line. Professor Evans and I will demonstrate before any of you begin.”

“We’ll focus on the charm itself today,” she added. “But we’ll practice actually countering other spells next week.” She took a step back to face James and couldn’t help the hint of a smirk that began forming. “A well-placed shield charm can throw your opponent off, so don’t underestimate the power of a good defence. Don’t you think so, Professor Potter?”

“I quite agree, Professor Evans,” he said, his eyes shining with playfulness. “Exceptional shield charms can hurtthe other person or knock them off their feet at the very least. Don’t want to do that unless you’ve got intentions to harm.”

“Quite right.” Lily withdrew her wand from her pocket and took a solid stance, her eyes trained on James’s arm. She dropped her head in a shallow bow, only letting him out of her line of vision for a second. 

He reflected her movements, holding his wand in front of him when she’d done the same and flashing a slight crooked grin. “Do you want me to go easy on you, Professor?”

“Never.”

“Didn’t think so. Like always, we’ll start in three…”

She supplied, “Two.”

“One,” they said together.

Lily didn’t move at first, watching his eyes and wand to assess what his first action might be. He had the same first inclination, both of them waiting for the other to show their hand. The students stood in anticipation as the seconds thumped by, her wand not flinching from its aim.

His hand suddenly twitched, and without any hesitation, she made her move as well, not wanting him to have the advantage. 

_“Protego!”_ they called at the same time. 

At the surprise of himperforming the Shield Charm, rather than some form of jinx or hex that could have caused some sort of damage, her own spell came out weaker than his. She was knocked slightly off balance, though quickly regained her footing as their shields collided.

Of _course_ he’d do something that was completely unexpected.

“Like that,” she said quickly, remembering the students watching but not letting her gaze slip from him. She slid her foot back to strengthen her stance. “Make sure you stay aware,” she started and added a flick of her wrist in his direction.

He let out a small yelp when his wand slipped from his hands, but he caught it at the last moment, grinning at her. “You got me there, Professor. Nothing like a revisit to the good old Disarming Charm.”

She lowered her wand this time, unable to prevent the smile that mirrored his. “We’re practicing the shield charm, of course, but I think you all understand. Speak clearly and put some force in the motion. We’ll walk around to help where it’s needed. Have at it!”

The students quickly gathered into pairs, and soon, chatter filled the air as _Protego_ over _Protego_ was cast, most of which turned out unsuccessful on the first try. After a few rounds, though, she was starting to see progress in the students, much to the joy of everyone in the room. 

James stepped closer toward her. “They learn quickly. If you ask me, I’d say a certain Professor has had a hand in that.”

“It’s not nice to brag, Potter,” she countered, watching half of one of the pairs cast a successful spell, only to break it off early in a dose of celebration. “Though, I will admit that it’s nice to have your experience.”

“Was talking about _you,_ but I’ll accept the compliment anyway,” he replied, and he shrugged halfheartedly. “It’s not like a textbook can’t do the same.”

“A textbook couldn’t make me stumble with a shield charm.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Do you want to make a wager on that?”

“Since you’ve already done it,” she said, still surveying their students, “it might not be the smartest wager on my part.”

“You calling me a textbook?”

“You coming up with more ways to make me admit that you _might_ have caught me a _little_ off guard when you cast a shield instead of a hex?”

“We weredemonstrating Shield Charms. Thought it was the only proper way to show the students.” He had an edge of a smile growing on his face, but she couldn’t make out any hint of malice in it.

She glanced at him but quickly looked away. “So, you see why I won’t take your wager. _Occasionally,_ you might be able to surprise me.”

“Could say the same to you. A disarming charm when we’re teaching shields? Verysneaky of you, Evans.”

Lily crossed her arms, though it lacked the tension the action held only a few days ago. “Thought you might try to shield yourself as a demonstration. Give everyone a chance to see it in action.”

“Swore my life flashed before my eyes.” He flashed her a quick grin. “I reckon the Chaser part of me jumped out before my Order side did.”

“Guess I shouldn’t stop taking it easy on you just yet.”

“Guess not,” he agreed. He ducked, avoiding an incoming spell that probably wouldn’t have done much to him anyway.

“Sorry, Professor!” the third year called, hiding his wand behind his back as an impulse.

Laughing, Lily stepped forward to the pair that almost hit James with a wild spell. “Professor Potter’s been through worse, I’m sure,” she assured them. “Let’s try again, yeah? This time, make sure you focus all the way through and know where your wand arm is going to stop. It will improve your aim.”

Nodding, the student followed her directions carefully, this time diverting his aim awayfrom James. 

James beamed. “That’s muchbetter, Jack. At the rate you’re going, you could probably beat me in dueling with some practice.”

The boy’s face reddened. “I don’t know about that one, Professor Potter.”

“Anyone can be caught off guard or distracted,” Lily said with a smile that wasn’t only forced for the student’s sake. “That’s why we’re practicing. Try again, and you’ll be a professional in no time.”

“Yes, Professor.” He went back to his partner, not before flashing her a wide smile.

Lily straightened and went back to their survey of the room, letting James fall into step beside her. “Now, at least, they might be able to defend themselves against some of the tricks we taught them. You can’t trust teenagers to follow the rules _all_ of the time.”

“‘Course not,” he agreed, “I know that from my own troublemaking experience, only with times being darker than they used to be, hopefully these kids use these charms for good and not hanging someone by their ankles.”

“One can hope,” she responded, not pressing on the bruise of their past. Patching up their relationship or, in this case, creating a new one, relied on her _not_ leaning on ideas of their old selves. “Ready to dismiss our attentive students for the night, Professor?”

He sighed dramatically, a flicker of playfulness in his eyes. “And tear them away from such a wondrous learning experience? If you insist.”

“We can let them get a good night’s sleep to cement the lesson in their minds.” She touched her side to make sure her wand was still securely in her pocket and picked up an up-ended chair. “It’s the best thing after a long day.”

“Reckon so.” He turned his attention towards the students. “I know you’ve all been having a blast practicing your shields. Unfortunately, it’s near time, so I’ll have to ask you to help pick up after yourselves. After that, you’re all dismissed to hopefullysleep, but I don’t have direct control over whether or not you decide to do that.”

There was some grumbling from the students, but they got to work, dropping their cushions into piles and forming small groups to socialize on their trips back to their common rooms. Lily waved and wished them a good night, reminding them to practice in anticipation of trying to block spells the next week. 

“That was the best one yet, I think,” she said to the room once the last student disappeared into the hall.

“One can only expect it to be better when we’re getting along because I’m not being an arse,” he replied. “Any plans for the rest of the night?”

“It does help,” she admitted, looking back at him. “Though if you’re never even a _bit_ of an arse, I might worry you’ve been replaced.” She tucked some hair behind her ear. “My social life was drastically reduced when I took a job in an old Scottish castle, so nothing exciting. Have you managed to find excellent plans anyway?”

A flicker of concern flashed through his eyes at her words, and he didn’t answer her question immediately. “Have you not been in touch with your friends outside of Hogwarts?”

“Mary and I write,” Lily answered quickly as a reply to his brief, pained expression. “It isn’t quite the same as living with her, obviously, though she has her fiance to keep her company.” 

He looked a bit more assured. “You know you can have plans for yourself, like raiding the Kitchens or taking a relaxing bath.” He seemed thoughtful for a moment before continuing. “As for me, I’ve just been up each night doing work. Nothing special.” 

She shrugged again and picked up another chair. “I’ve mostly been doing the same. Catching up on work, reading.”

“It sounds a bit boring, does it, to have the same routine over and over? The first term hasn’t even ended yet, and all I want is a break from it all.” He heaved a heavy sigh, putting a chair back into place with a wave of his wand. “The kids are lovely and all, but the paperwork? Not so much.”

“Your essay topics have to be good, at least. Reading about rogue vampires and the best way to counter a swarm of pixies has to be more interesting than reviewing the uses of frog spawn in antidotes.”

“I dunno. When you read ten essays that more or less copy what the textbook has to say about the matter, it gets kind of boring. Vampires lose their luster when just about every kid says the same thing about how they suck the blood of their victims.” There was slight amusement in his expression. “Change it up, say, I dunno, that they sparkle in the sunlight or something. I’d have to take points off for inaccuracy, but at least it’d be more entertaining than the same few facts that everyone uses in their research.”

“It is a little amusing,” she agreed, “when someone clearly tried to copy the textbook, but they got the wrong page. Is that bad to say? It’s not a particularly good reflection on my subject, but it adds a dose of variety in the middle of a dozen essays on the same thing.”

“I swear, these kids probably think we don’t even read their essays, but that’s bloody bollocks _._ I won’t hand out an assignment and not grade it.” He let out a light laugh. “There’s the occasional kid would will try to turn in an essay copied straight from the textbook, word-by-word, like I haven’t read that textbook myself. It’s ridiculous,and as much as I want them to succeed in life, I applaudthem for giving me some entertainment, even if they don’t mean it.”

“Exactly!” Lily clapped her hands together, but her smile wavered. “It’s getting late. I shouldn’t keep you up with my silly professor woes. You’ve got enough of your own, clearly.”

“It’s fine. You’re fine,” he said, waving it off. “There’s no rush in returning to essays that were obviously written the hour before they were due.”

“Still. What I said about sleep goes for professors too. We can't be skipping out on rest just because we want everyone to pass their OWLs.”

He shrugged. “Staying up all night isn’t anything new for me. I’ve did it loads of nights back in my Hogwarts days. I’ll be fine,Evans.”

“Well, let's not repeat _everything_ from our Hogwarts days,” Lily teased, though she didn't move toward the door. “I don't miss studying all night for an exam the next morning.”

“Ah, no. I wasn’t talking about studying,” he replied, burying his hands deep in his pockets. “Besides, one night up won’t hurt.”

She swallowed but didn't let her mind wander. They _just_ started getting along again, so she couldn't do something to risk that. “Not only studying, no,” she said quietly. “We should... go to bed. We need rest in our old age.”

The easy smile on his face faltered. “I— no, I swear I wasn't thinking of what you’reprobably thinking either. I meant with my mates. We stayed up goofing around and having fun. And besides, we’re not _old._ We’ve still got so much of our lives left, you know? Really, Evans. It’s just one night up.”

“James Potter will never get old,” she said, trying to salvage the dip in conversation. “I bet, even when you're a hundred, you'll still insist that you can fly circles around your grandkids.”

“Grandkids?” he repeated, and he let out a light chuckle at that. “That’s probably the most unrealistic part of your sentence.”

“I don't think it's too far off. You'd want a whole Quidditch team of your own to take over the European League.”

“It’s not the matter of whether or not I _want_ kids. Of course, I do.” He looked down at his shoes. “It’s the matter of finding someone willing to have kids with me.”

“People a lot worse than you have kids, Potter,” she answered, copying his pose by shoving her hands in her pockets. “I mean, your best mate exists, doesn't he? If his parents can find someone, it’s going to happen for you.” 

“But they’re not in love. They _can’t_ be in love, because they don’t have the slightestounce of affection in them.” He averted his gaze towards her. “Don’t you want to fall in love, Evans?”

“Yeah,” she said softly, looking slightly past him. “I mean, yes, of course I do. I want to fall in love and _be_ in love. Maybe not now, with everything that's going on, but... it'll happen someday. For you too.”

“One of them’s already happened to me in the past, I think. Falling in love, at least,” he replied, and he swallowed deeply. “Sucks when it’s not both at the same time.”

“There's always second chances, aren't there?” She shrugged and a small smile turned at the corner of her mouth. “I mean, look at us. Couldn't stand each other a week ago and now we're skipping sleep to debate love, of all things.” Lily let her gaze fall on him again. “But if it wasn't meant to be, it means there's someone out there, waiting to find you. I mean, it may be silly, but I've _seen_ it. Mary's totally batty for Reg, but she's so _happy_.” 

He stared back at her, and she was unable to discern the new emotions in his eyes before he turned away once again. “Yeah. Yeah, I reckon there aresecond chances. Highly doubt she’s waiting for me, though. Probably out saving the world or doing something equally as noble, but definitely not waiting for me _._ She’s got higher priorities.” 

Lily let the moment sit between them before she spoke slowly. “That sounds like the type of girl you'd like. Someone changing the world. You can… save the world together. Then retire once this stupid war is over and raise that Quidditch team we mentioned.” 

“It doesseem like the perfect plan,” he agreed slowly. “But with my luck, things will happen in the wrong time and place, if they happen at all.”

“Maybe,” she said, nodding. “Or maybe they weren’t supposed to happen yet. I’m not an expert, but I think twenty two is a bit early to give up on love.” She offered a small, encouraging smile and tilted her head toward the door. “C’mon, Potter. A good night’s sleep will help. Maybe you’ll even dream about your world-saving girl.”

He sighed. “I’ll take your word for it, then.” 

A pause. 

“Oi, love expert, have _you_ ever been in love? Seem to know a lot about the subject at twenty.”

“I _just_ said I’m not—” His next question took her by surprise, stopping her short. “Only what I’ve read in romance novels and hear people say. I mean, I don’t— I guess I don’t know if I have. How do you know?”

James shrugged. “I dunno. When you feel a certain way towards someone that you don’t feel toward someone else, then it hasto be something special. This personhas to be someone special. I don’t even know if it is— _was—_ love, but it was a hell of a feeling that I—” He stopped himself, cursing. “I’m rambling. It’s— sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” she assured him, watching him carefully. 

The way he scrubbed a hand through his hair and something like _pain_ shot across his features made her feel much younger and less experienced, like she had seen less of the world than he had. Her heart skipped a beat in the past, but she never had an all-consuming feeling that made the whole world look different. 

“It’s late, like we said. We’re both tired and trying to solve the great mysteries of life. I…” She took a step toward him. “I think you’ll find it, James. People like you were made to fall in love.”

“I— yeah?”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

He looked at her, the emotions in his eyes indiscernible, and, as he leaned down, she felt her breath catch in her throat. The whole conversation, even if it was light on details from her side, was personal, far more intimate than anything else she discussed with him. He got closer to her, nearly filling her senses with little _but_ him, and her eyes began to flutter shut. 

For a fleeting second, she thought he was going to—

He reached for the door instead, opening it for both of them. His face was quite far from hers once again, and he suddenly looked more tired than he did a few moments ago. “I— Yeah. You too, Evans. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

All of the build up of the conversation and connection in the moment snapped, escaping in a rush through the open door.

“Yeah,” Lily answered finally, like the word was a feat of enormous strength. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He nodded weakly, his eyes trained on the corridor ahead of them. “Good night, Evans.”

Lily stepped into the hall and watched him take a few steps of his own toward his rooms. She wondered at his suddenly tired expression and whether she missed a stair or said the wrong thing. Even if she had, she didn’t know what she could say now to make up for whatever the mistake was. 

When she spoke, her voice was quiet, but it carried in the empty corridor. 

“Good night, James.”


	8. Chapter 8

Being friends with Lily Evans was strange. 

It was a _good_ kind of strange, but still strange when he thought about it.

One week, he was convincing her— and himself— that he hated her. Another week, they were having a serious discussion about love, like he wasn’t talking about herthroughout the entire conversation.

He wasn’t sure if she knew thatshe _was_ the mysterious girl, but she didn’t probe too deeply into his personal life or share details about herself. It had mostly been himrevealing some of the feelings that he tried so hard to keep hidden to everyone but Sirius… and now Lily.

Then again, he thought, if one were to analyse the pieces of information that he told her, it would be obvious whothis girl was. With all the time that he spent with her, doing all sorts of things besides talking with their mouths, how could he have _not_ fallen for her along the way?

He didn’t think that he could fall for her any harder than he already did in the past, but when she addressed him by his first name— so sweetly that he’d nearly done the unthinkable in response to the sound— and told him that he was practically _made_ for falling in love, he felt his heart collapsing six more feet into the ground.

Since it was already inthe ground, he tried desperately to ignore the kick that had been sent his way when she said that she’d never been in love. It was a truth that he always knew deep inside, but he never forced himself to acknowledge it until she spoke the words herself.

Of course, she was never in love with him.

He was never direct with his feelings, and she’d probably seen him as nothing more than someone to kiss in the comfort of broom closets or anywhere else detached from the rest of the world. Perhaps, if he’d asked her out on a date one night, rather than occupying his lips with some other activity, they’d be married by now. Maybe bringing a child into the middle of a war.

Or, perhaps not. Perhaps, they wouldn’t have worked out.

He didn’t know. He never _would_ know, and there was no point in dwelling on things that never happened.

They were friendsnow. Just friends. Nothing more, and nothing less. There were no words to put in front or behind the word. Friendstalked to each other, spent time with one another, made each other laugh, and understoodone another. 

He wasn’t going to be selfish and toss her off to the side. He wanted to spend time with her, to get to know her better, to understand why she thought the way she did. 

Friends did things outsideof work-related activities, he reasoned. So, that’s what they would do. 

“Evans,” he said, and she looked up from her papers. “Are you busy tonight?”

She gave him a teasing smile, one he learned quickly over the last few days as Lily’s friend. “Yeah, Potter,” she answered, nearly laughing at him, judging by the way her eyes sparkled. “Have a whole line of people waiting right outside the castle gates. No, I’m not busy, but you probably already knew that.”

“It’s upsetting that your social life hasn’t dramatically gone up since the last Dueling Club meeting,” he replied, liking the tint in her eyes. “No prior engagements with your nearly-plagiarised essays that are in dire need of grading?”

“They can wait another day,” she replied, shuffling her papers into a pile. “If the idea you’re bursting to say is enticing enough.”

He grinned. “Would you say that going on an extremely important mission— a heist, if you will— is enticing enough for you?”

“If our mission is a noble one,” she replied primly, though he noticed how she sat up straighter at his words. 

“Of course,it’s noble. We get to piss off Filch _and_ get a prized possession back. Win-win situation for everyone, really.” He paused before adding as an afterthought, “Except Filch, I guess, but he honestly can’t do shit about it.”

“Okay, I’ll bite.” Lily tucked the stack of papers into her bag. She put both elbows on the desk in front of her and propped her chin on them, looking at him. “What are we doing?”

“We’re breaking into his office and retrieving something important.” He gave her a sideways glance. “And I was thinking that you could distract him while I get it.”

She raised a brow. “Are you going to tell me _what_ we’re taking back, you criminal mastermind? Or are you just using me for my Potions classroom, full of things that could explode and need cleaning at any moment?”

He nudged his glasses back up his nose, regarding her with a bit of amusement. “I can’t believe you’ve caught me red-handed. _Yes._ We were going to raid your Potions storage to brew a gallon of Polyjuice so I could take over Filch’s life as a miserable caretaker. Am I really _that_ transparent?”

Lily clicked her tongue and admonished him. “You should have paid attention in your Potions class, Potter. Polyjuice takes far too long for us to have it ready for a mission _tonight_.” She looked away from him, as if considering their options. “I’m thinking that you needed me to distract our caretaker with an emergency— maybe an exploded cauldron?— so you could sneak in and take back whatever this mystery item is. But how do I know it’s a noble cause, if I don’t know our goal?”

“Doesn’t it ruin the fun if you know what it is now?”

“Are you seeking justice for wronged troublemakers by taking those shackles he’s always going on about? Or hoping to find a diary of wild confessions?”

“I’d rather _not_ find any diary of that sort, if it exists.” He grimaced. “Don’t want to know what’s in his past. Trust me, Evans. I’ll make it worth your while.”

She looked back at him, that smirk that made his heart skip a beat still there. “Fine. I'll help you, Potter, but you have to swear to show me what we stole when it's done.”

“I can’t believe you think I wouldn’tshow you.” 

“All right, then. What's the plan?”

“Like we said, you could distract Filch, blow up a cauldron, and then we could break into his office while one of us stays on the look-out for him in case he comes back.” He paused. “That, or we steal his beloved cat so that he’s on the lookout for _her_ instead of for us. Do you think the Summoning Charm works on animals?”

“I think _that's_ a sure way to get Filch running a campaign to get us both fired.” She folded her hands in front of her. “An exploded cauldron, however, I can do.”

The edges of his lips curved upwards, and he rose from his seat. “Ready to go, then?”

Mirroring him by standing, Lily was nearly grinning. “Let's do it.”

—

Her part of the plan was going to be _perfect_.

Exploding a cauldron might have looked easy, but the secret was knowing the _best_ way to explode a cauldron. Filch didn't know much about potion brewing, so he wouldn't know if she did something on purpose. What reason would the Potions professor have, after all, to blow up her own cauldrons? 

Still, it had to be just right. She couldn't let the fire burn too long and hope it caught a spark. That could result in more flames than mess, and mess would keep him occupied longer. She couldn't make too obvious of a mistake either, because Lily had carefully cultivated her reputation as an intuitive and resourceful brewer. She couldn't disappoint after Slughorn's glowing recommendation.

It would have to be a product of an earlier mistake. Something that was overlooked in the rush of back-to-back classes and students of various abilities.

Someone could have lost or damaged their cauldron. That was common enough to avoid any suspicion. They needed to borrow one, so Professor Evans offered an old school cauldron that had seen thousands of potions and better days. The grateful student did their assignment for the day and stowed it away to wait for the next person who needed to use one on reserve.

It was perfectly believable that a student wouldn't completely clean out their cauldron in the rush to get to lunch. It was perfectly believable that Professor Evans could use that same cauldron to prepare an example for the next morning's first class. It was perfectly believable that the residue from the earlier potion would interact with hers and cause an explosion that felt like it rocked the whole room.

James hadto be able to hear that as the signal.

One thing she wasn't completely prepared for was the half-brewed slime that covered her hair and robes. She tied her hair back, like she always did before getting to work, but that didn't stop the sludge from dripping down her cheek and covering the front of her robes.

At least she looked the part of a distressed professor.

Lily tore out of the Potions classroom, holding up the edge of her robe so she could run faster. She tried Filch’s office first, pounding on the door to get his attention. Thankfully, a chair creaked behind it, and the caretaker stood in front of her, his cat circling his ankles.

“Mr. Filch,” she started, doing her best imitation of a damsel in distress. “There's been a little accident in the dungeon. Could you help me? I have to prepare for my class tomorrow and don't know how I will with—”

“Yes, Professor,” he grumbled, waving away the rest of her sob story. “Wasn't any troublemakers, was it?”

“I don't think so,” she answered, pressing her hands over her heart. “Unless you think so? Oh, come see it for yourself. We have to fix it!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he answered, fumbling around his office for clean-up supplies.

Lily chanced a glance down the hallway to see if James was in position. She didn’t actually see him, so she couldn’t be sure, but him being out in the open would be worse, wouldn’t it? She’d have to trust that he heard the explosion and knew to be ready to pounce.

“Oh, please hurry!” she said, clutching her hands together and adding a note of desperation to her tone. “I'll be up all night, since I have to start everything for class all over!”

Filch mumbled something else, probably complaining about entitled and pampered professors, and grabbed his mop, gesturing her to lead the way. 

_Success._

—

Filch’s small and dark office was a location that James made sure to avoid at all costs during his Hogwarts career. Rumours of shrieking kids shackled up helplessly to the walls were enough to make anyone want to steer clear of the creepy caretaker and anything related to him. Even now as a professor, this was an avoidance James still tried to uphold.

Except for now. 

His map— created with the painstaking effort of bored, determined fifth-year students— was at stake, and it was one of the only things that would make him willingly enter the office.

Quite conveniently, Filch’s office was located on the ground floor, rightabove the dungeon where Lily would be operating the first part of their plan. The layout made it so she could quickly get there while Filch tended to the supposed cauldron explosion.

Honestly, the plan was so simplethat it had to work.

While Lily was busy pulling Filch out of his office to make him investigate the disaster— he was quite surprised and pleased with her dedication to her role— he waited around the corner, ready to enter the office when it was empty. The irony that he was still sneaking around the school, even as a professor, wasn’t lost on him, but he didn’t entertain the thought for much longer. He had work to do. A _door_ to unlock.

Without any hesitation, he moved towards the entrance to the office, trying a meager _Alohomora_ and knowing that his efforts would likely be unsuccessful. Filch may not have had any magic in him, but all his years at Hogwarts made it so that he knew to put up a fair number of safeguards against nosy, intrusive kids. The old caretaker probably demanded that Dumbledore set magical precautions for him, in addition to the already-extensive actions he took to keep students out of his office.

James tried other ways to open the door, but nothing seemed to do the trick. He tried _Annihilare,_ and then _Dunamis, Emancipare,_ and _Liberare_ , but all of those attempts were met with no success. He nearly threw his wand in frustration. 

Still, though. He was just one person and didn’t have all the solutions at hand, and so he had to look at the problem from someone else’s perspective.

What would Lily do?

_Fuck._

This would be harder than he thought.

—

Filch moved quickly for a person who spent most of his time shuffling from place to place.

Lily went to the dungeon at a half-run, trying her best to look like a worried person who needed her problem solved by someone else, someone more prepared. If sucking up to Filch would buy them more time, she would do it. Who knew how long it would take to find whatever James sought?

She skidded to a halt in front of her open classroom door. “It’s right in here,” she directed, pushing the door open to hold it for him.

Filch shuffled by without a thank you.

While he surveyed her newly-slimed classroom, Lily rocked on her feet, hoping he would take it as the anxieties of a first-term professor rather than a person who was counting down the seconds until she could escape. Her first few assignments in their plan were to make a reason for him to leave his office and then actually get him to come to the dungeon, but now she had to extract herself for the most important part of the whole thing.

“Please, if you wouldn’t mind, the classroom needs to be ready for students tomorrow morning. I know you take such pride in the castle, Mr. Filch, and want to make sure it’s up to your standards.” 

“Are you sure one of those little rascals didn’t do it, Professor?” he asked, grimacing as the attempted potion dripped onto the floor. “I won’t mind reporting it to Dumbledore if you won’t—”

“I don’t think so,” Lily answered again, twisting a pinch of robes in her fingers. “It’s just an accident, I think. Something in the cauldron must have reacted.” 

He looked at her skeptically and back to the mess. He held his mop in one hand but made no move to start cleaning. “Or that Weasley boy thinks it’s a fun game to mess with—”

“It happens with people who are learning, Mr. Filch,” she said, this time with a note of authority. She wasn’t going to let one of her students take the fall for her actions. “I don’t want anyone to get in trouble and don’t think they should. It’s an innocent mistake that we can clean up, can’t we?”

He grumbled again and made an ineffective sweep with his mop. “It’ll take some time, but I can get it back before—”

“Oh, wonderful!” Lily declared. “I can come back in a half hour, maybe?”

“You can just wait, and I’ll—”

“But I, um…” Lily’s eyes darted around the room, looking for a reason she needed to leave. She spent her planning energy on getting him here and not on getting her out. “I have some lesson planning to do. I can do that while you work?”

Filch gestured to the door to her office. “By all means,” he answer gruffly, scrubbing at the floor.

“Right. Er…” Lily picked at her nail. “I have to ask Professor Potter about something, actually. I’ll go do that and, when I’m back, my classroom will be better than new.” Hopefully, the compliment would have enough strength to turn her excuse into an exit _and_ alibi. 

“Professor—”

“Wonderful!” she repeated, not giving him time to question her motives. “Thank you again!”

She scurried out of the room and heavily shut the door behind her. With the same urgency as before, she raced back up to his office, taking the stairs two at a time and expecting to find the door slightly ajar as a signal that James was inside and searching like they had planned.

What she _hadn’t_ expected was James standing outside the door, trying every spell he could think of, like the door was his greatest enemy. And it was winning the fight. 

“What are you _doing_?” Lily stage-whispered, putting a hand on his arm to signal her arrival. “You’re going to get caught if you keep carrying on like that!”

“It’s not _my_ fault that Filch has used every bloody method he could to keep people out of his office!” he frantically whispered back. “I even tried a silent _Confringo,_ but it didn’t do shit _._ If you have any bloody ideas to open the door, I’m all ears.”

Honestly, why were men always put in charge when they could be such _idiots_?

“Budge over,” she replied, knocking him aside with her hip. 

She tried (and failed) to turn the knob, but that was to be expected. Filch probably invested in every magical method he or another professor could think of to keep students away from his confiscated goods. There wouldn’t be any spell that could make it past anything Dumbledore or McGonagall set.

There wouldn’t be any _spell_.

Thankfully, Lily lived long enough with an angry sister who liked to lock her door to prove a point. When Petunia first stopped speaking with her, Lily spent a few days figuring out exactly how to get into that room and find any sign that her sister still loved her. Petunia hadn’t appreciated Lily’s sleuthing abilities when they helped her discover a letter from Professor Dumbledore, but they could help her now.

Lily lifted a hand to the back of her head without explanation, her fingers searching for the key to Filch’s office. She found it, thanks to the inability of her hair to stay in place without significant support. Tugging on the bobby pin with her teeth, she bent it into the right shape and knelt to be eye-level with the door.

“Never broke into a door without magic?” she asked, the taunting clear in her tone. Lily tried twisting her wrist, but the lock didn’t click. “Make yourself useful and keep a lookout, Potter. I’m a little out of practice.”

James quirked his lips in response. “‘Course.”

Knowing Filch could be coming back soon, rather than making her hands shake with worry, it made her more focused. Maybe the mission didn’t _really_ matter, but she _wanted_ to succeed. She wanted their first proper activity as friends—even if it was breaking into an office—to be something they could look at fondly instead of regretfully.

Lily let out a noise of frustration, jiggling the knob impatiently. 

James hastily turned back to her, placing his hand over top of hers, poised over the handle and sending warmth to her fingertips. “Do you need some help with that?”

“No,” she replied stubbornly, batting away his hand. She couldn’t get distracted by the sparks that went up her arm because she knew how good of a kisser he was. She needed to be focused on their mission. “I need you to keep watch. I’ve got it.”

He didn’t bother making another attempt to touch her, merely pulling back with a light smile. “If you say so.”

She returned to the lock with more urgency, listening for the sound that she conquered it. This was something she could do. It was something James couldn’t do without her (if his poor attempts were any indication) and proof that she was a useful part of the plan. 

The faint internal turning of the lock when it clicked open was the best sound she heard all day.

“I’m in!” Lily announced, standing to brush herself off and open the door with a flourish. 

When she turned around to look at him, she couldn’t help but notice the broad grin on his face, as if he was just as proud of her as she was. “Knew you could do it, Evans,” he replied, and he gestured towards the door, presenting it as if it was a prize. “Will you have the honour of entering first?”

“If you tell me what we’re looking for,” she countered, though she stepped into the room and reached back to take his hand, tugging him in after her. She left the door ajar, enough that they would be able to hear footsteps if Filch started down the corridor toward them. She wasn’t sure how long getting the door open took or how much time they had left. 

When they were safely in the room, she dropped his hand and put her own on her hips. “What _are_ we looking for, anyway?”

He didn’t answer immediately, moving towards the cabinets. She had no choice but to follow him as he pointed at a drawer labelled _Confiscated and Highly Dangerous._ “It’s got to be in there.”

“Well, start looking, Potter, if you aren’t going to tell me anything useful. Filch will be here any minute. Should I keep watch?”

“Yeah,” he replied. “Unless it’s locked and you’ve got another one of those hair pins to pick it open.”

Lily peered through the sliver of open door. “I’ll save us again if needed. Now, can you start looking already? How did you ever become Head Boy if you acted like this and got caught?”

“Swear, I know what I’m doing,” he said, and she heard the sounds of cabinets being pulled open and closed. “From all the precautions he put on his door, you would expect him to have put some on his cabinets.”

“Must not think anyone can get to them,” she replied, keeping her eyes on the empty hallway. Surely, James could handle a few cabinets on his own. “Any luck?”

“Yeah.” She heard the sound of footsteps coming up behind her, probably James moving around the room. “I think I found it.”

A noise at the end of the corridor made her press her cheek against the wall to get a better view. The unmistakable dragging footsteps told her that they were running out of time. “You think? Potter, he’s coming back!”

She felt his warm presence behind her, and, suddenly, she felt herself being pulled towards him, her back colliding softly with his chest. Her eyes widened. “What are you—”

“Relax, Evans,” he said, and he pressed the two of them against the wall. A cloak was thrown hastily over them.

“How’s a cloak going to help—”

A sharp meow from around their ankles cut her off and made her look down as well, noticing that Filch’s cat managed to sneak back into the open office door. They hadn’t planned for _that_. 

“Fuck,” she whispered, using the support of his arms to keep herself from stumbling. 

Mrs. Norris was enough of surprise, but that wasn’t all. 

Her feet were missing.

What kind of cloak _was_ this?

Filch cooed from the corridor in response to his cat, who darted to the doorway expectantly. He was back, and they were huddled against the wall in his office.

Lily held her breath, instinctively pressing herself against James to be as small as possible. She felt the rapid movements of his heartbeat against her spine and the ghosts of his breaths tickling her hair.

Filch dropped his supplies outside the door and reached to pet his cat, stroking her with gentleness that he lacked around students. “Don’t know how to clean up a cauldron,” Filch muttered. “Always asking dear old Argus to clean up after them, don’t they, Mrs. Norris? Don’t worry, my sweet, we won’t be disturbed any more for the rest of the night.”

He continued muttering to himself and turned to grab the temporarily forsaken supplies, dragging the mop in one hand and carrying the bucket of cleaning solution to the small closet in his office. James seemed to take this as a cue to leave, casting a nonverbal _Silencio_ to hide any sounds of their movement.

If the cloak was able to hide them from Filch, she couldn't let it flutter around their shoes. She stepped carefully, trying to stay as close as possible to the way James walked to keep them both hidden. They slipped through the open door, and Lily wasn't sure if she was actually breathing until they were in the corridor. 

She let him lead the way, directing them to a turn in the corridor where they could hide behind the wall. The snap of Filch's office door after a few seconds signaled that they might have actually gotten away with it.

“James...” she started, though she didn't know what to say. Her body was still on high alert, ready for something to go wrong. 

“We make a good team, Evans,” he said, looking at her with a crooked grin. He reached out, giving her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Relax. We got what we were looking for.”

She let the cloak fall to her shoulders and took a step back from him, so their closeness wasn't a reason why she wasn't breathing properly. She leaned back against the wall and took a few seconds to catch her breath. “What are our spoils?”

“This.”

He pulled out a large piece of parchment, unfolding it to reveal… Nothing. It was absolutely blank.

“Did I miss something?” she asked, poking it. “Why did we steal back a blank parchment? How do you know it's the _right_ blank parchment?”

“I want you to take out your wand,” he replied, ignoring her questions. “Point it at this parchment and say, ‘I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.’”

Lily took her wand from her pocket, as he directed, holding it out and feeling particularly silly. Maybe this was an extended joke of his that ended with her being the target, but with all of their efforts, she didn’t really think so. He had been so _serious_ about the importance of their mission, even when the task sounded so ridiculous. 

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

At the utterance of the last word, it was as if something was unlocked. A flurry of ink appeared on the piece of parchment with a deep scarlet colour decorating the center. The print greeted her with the secrets of this very special piece of parchment.

_Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers are proud to present THE MARAUDER'S MAP_

It was unlike anything she had ever seen, which was rare. She entered the magical world when she was young enough to be thrilled when something surprised her, but years of exposure made it so few things did anymore. The item he held in his hands and the pride glowing on his face showed that it wasn’t just a spare bit of parchment. 

She teased him for never thinking of the muggle way of doing things, but here she was, still being surprised by magic.

“Prongs,” Lily said finally, latching onto the familiar. She ran her fingerprint over the letters, as if testing whether the fresh ink would smudge. “Sirius calls you that.”

“He does,” James nodded, his eyes gauging her reaction carefully. “Padfoot is Sirius, Moony is Remus, and Wormtail is Peter.”

“You made it,” she guessed, the words not even pretending to sound like a question. 

He looked down, bashfully scrubbing a hand through his hair. “My mates and I made it together. Can’t take all of the credit.”

Lily opened one of the folds, touching the parchment lightly like it could crack beneath careless hands. The lines formed columns and rectangles, connecting an intricate web of corridors and rooms. The marks under her fingers were a staircase, and she watched it move across the page like the ones that led to the Transfiguration classroom. 

This glimpse was enough to make her need to see more. She pushed back another fold and found the slanting handwriting that labeled ‘Filch’s Office’. Her fingers followed the corridor’s path across the page and around the turn where they hid only a few moments ago. Two dots stood beside each other in the same place where she was standing, her shoulder almost brushing James.

“That’s us,” she said, awestruck.

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “The Map shows you where everyone is and the best shortcuts to take.” 

“It’s Hogwarts. This is a map of Hogwarts. With every person and where they are! No _wonder_ you always knew where to—” She stopped herself from saying more, deciding that bringing _that_ up was saying too much. 

“I mean, it’s called the Marauder’s Map for a reason,” he replied, though she didn’t miss the smile on his face.

“Your cloak.” Lily looked up from the parchment, eyes wide. “It made us invisible, didn’t it?”

Her growing excitement was not lost on him, and his smile grew wider. “It’s been in my family for generations. Don’t know what I would have done without it.”

“Oh my _God_ ,” she answered, at a loss for what else to say. She took a step away from him and back to watch her dot move along with her on the Map. “I’ll say this, Potter. You definitely know how to impress a girl.”

His eyes widened slightly, and James blinked as his hand flew up to scratch the back of his neck awkwardly. There was a faint blush growing on his neck. “I wasn’t trying to impress you.”

For some reason, his obvious nerves made her all the more confident. “That’s all right. Everyone’s full of surprises.” She grinned at him and bumped their shoulders. “What are our big plans for this map, _Prongs?”_

“Not sure,” he answered seriously. “As teachers, we don’t have to worry as much about sneaking around and avoiding anyone.” His hand shot up to his hair again. “Not that we’d be sneaking around. I usually use the Map to steer clear of certain people or find someone.”

“I’m sure we’ll find somethingto do with it,” she replied, letting his invisibility cloak slide between her fingers. “Like you said, Potter, we make a good team.”

He grinned, clearing the map and folding it back up to put in his robe pocket. “We do, don’t we?”

“Yeah. We could—” 

A crash came from the end of the hallway, making her dart away from him to look around the corner. She pulled back, leaning against the wall to stay out of view. Even though she was a professor now, the idea of being this close to a possible crime scene when they were fleeing their _own_ crime scene wasn’t a good one. 

“I think that’s our cue,” she whispered, turning her head to see him. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

He sighed deeply, possibly for dramatic effect. “A bit sad that we can’t have a serious discussion about love again, but yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Pink probably flooded her cheeks, but the light was dim enough that he might not have noticed. “There’s always next time. Good night, Potter.”

The low lights made her see traces of fondness in his eyes. “Good night, Lily.” 


	9. Chapter 9

In the midst of the work piled atop the chests of all third year students and higher, there wasone thing that never failed to lighten their spirits.

Hogsmeade. The place that younger students dreamedof visiting. Where, once they were old enough and had permission, they could spend time with friends and maybe even have their first date. 

James was one of the many kids who had his first— but not certainly his last— first date at the lively village. Though he couldn’t recall much from his first visit with a girl, he knew that it ended in a disaster for both of them.

His very first _visit,_ on the other hand, was farfrom disastrous. He saved the heartbreak for the future, choosing instead to spend his first trip with his three best mates. He remembered buying so many sweets from Honeydukes that he felt sickened at the taste, drinking one too many glasses of Butterbeer, and laughingtoo hard from pulling all the gags he bought at Zonko’s.

Third year, it seemed, was the sweet, innocent paradise he dreamed of revisiting, back before pretty red-haired girls made his heart swell and jumbled up his thought processes.

Ordinarily, he might not have paid attention to the Hogsmeade weekends. When he had students who routinely talked about the supposed relationship he had with the charming Potions professor, it was hard to miss any news about upcoming, potentially romantic events. He almost forgot about the memories he made at Hogsmeade, far too swept up in work and raging feelings that refused to be eased.

_Almost_ was the key word.

It was hard to remember anything, really, when that very Potions professor was unintentionally making it difficult to remember things that weren’t about _her._ His subconscious wasn’t helping matters either, not when he had dream after dream of unrealistic scenarios that would never happen between him and Lily. 

Unrealistic, but not completely _impossible._ If he changed a few aspects of the dreams— like forgoing the romance attached to a date— then perhaps he’d be _somewhat_ satisfied with the outcomes.

They were friends. They could go on trips to Hogsmeade together.

Part of him wished that he asked her on a proper date all those years ago. He should have put off heavy make-out sessions for the night in exchange for a chance to make those sessions _daily—_ for the rest of their lives _._

Back then, though, he knew he couldn’t do it. They were in the midst of a war that seemed to have no clear ending, and he thought that he’d have to be an _idiot_ to date when he wasn’t even sure if they would make it to see the next day. 

Five years later, and his fears seemed to have been for nothing.

It didn’t matter now, anyway. Romance wasn’t an option, not between the two of them. Opting for the next best thing was.

They were sitting in his office. James cleared his throat, breaking the comfortable silence that formed between the two of them while reading over documents for the Order. “Evans.”

“Potter,” she echoed, looking up from her reading and raising a brow in a way that never failed to send his heart racing. 

“Hogsmeade is tomorrow,” he said. He leaned back in his seat in a way that he hoped appeared casual to her. 

Lily mirrored his position, sitting back in her chair and putting her quill down on the parchment in front of her. “Couldn’t miss it, since my students won’t stop talking about it.”

To _hell_ with subtlety. “Do you want to go with me?” he asked, the words coming out in a stream rather than the calm and collected manner he wished. “To celebrate the repossession of a sacred artifact and rekindled friendship, obviously.”

Her eyes widened, much like they had when the Marauder’s Map came to life under her wand. Uncrossing her legs and sitting forward at the same time, she asked, “Are you asking me to Hogsmeade?” 

“As friends,” he clarified, like he hadn’t gotten thatmessage across well enough. When she continued to look at him disbelievingly, he added, “If not, I could spend my time with good old McGonagall tomorrow.”

“I guess I hadn’t really thought about it,” Lily admitted, her eyes starting to return to their normal size. “About professors going, I mean. We shouldn’t have to supervise them or any—” Noticing she was rambling, Lily looked sheepish and started to play distractedly with the ends of her hair. “But yeah. I mean, yes. I’d like to go. With you. As friends.” 

He couldn’t help the smile on his face as she went on, couldn’t help but find her adorable as she responded. “It’ll be fun. Even morefun than grading essays and agonizing over the low pay that teachers get, I’d wager.”

“I _hope_ you’re a better date than that,” she replied, gaining some confidence from his smile. “Even as friends.”

“Even as enemies, I’d still say that I’m a better date.” He twirled his quill in his hand distractedly, trying hard not to focuson her use of the cursed ‘date’ word. 

She offered him a gentle smile and turned back to the papers in front of her. “I look forward to it.”

He returned the smile easily. There was, observably, far too much room for smiles. 

He didn’t mind one bit. Not when Lily Evans was the cause of it all.

—

For the first time in several years, Lily had a date to Hogsmeade.

As friends, of course.

She hadn’t thought about how she would spend her Saturday morning until James mentioned the scheduled visit, but now it seemed obvious. She was a professor and could come and go as she pleased, but there was always something special about a Hogsmeade weekend, something that tapped into memories of her days at school. 

Why wouldn’tshe take the excuse to get away from the castle and spend some time with someone who made her laugh?

Admittedly, they were spending an increasingly large amount of time together. When she wasn’t teaching or sleeping or grading essays, she was researching for the Order, planning dueling club meetings, or smirking at her club partner from across the room. 

All of those things just happenedto involve James.

It was perfectly natural for him to ask her to go with him. He didn’t want to wander the village alone, and she was the closest person to him in age and experience. One wouldn’t really be able to relax with Professor McGonagall standing by their shoulder, even if they werealso a professor and she couldn’t wasn’t in a position to give them detention.

Disappointing McGonagall was far scarier than any detention, and they could still do that.

He asked her because he missed his friends and needed someone to talk to for the day. They already did so much together, so what was one more thing? They were friends with a bond secured by a hugged upon deal and shared culpability in petty theft. 

There didn’t have to be anything else to it.

There _wasn’t_ anything else to it.

Anything that tried to convince her otherwise must have been because she came back to Hogwarts with an unexpected reminder. With the sight of James and the way he made her feel a hundred different things in a single second, the teenage part of her brain took over. 

The last time they were in these halls, they were two completely different people. They were protected from the worst parts of the world and thought that being rebellious was the ultimate win. Seeing him ruffle his hair reminded her of all the times James grabbed her hand and snuck them away from prying eyes and an encroaching war. 

Now, they both faced some of the realities. They joined a group dedicated to fighting back and were away from the bubble created by Albus Dumbledore. They had responsibilities and couldn’t pretend that they were bucking against society simply because they liked snogging.

They were co-workers.

Friends.

It didn’t stop her from stealing glances to the other end of the table, where James ate his breakfast. Students milled about the large room, making plans and forming groups to take on the village. Studious first and second years huddled together to capture the best spots in the library while the older students were gone.

Friends could still be eagerfor the chance to see each other without the obligations of work and assigned partnerships.

After she finished eating, Lily rose from her seat and moved a few down to sit next to James, who looked like he was finishing his own breakfast. She didn’t have robes to smooth over her lap today, opting for her favorite pair of muggle jeans and a thick blue sweater. 

“Hey,” she greeted, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I hear there’s a trip to a place called Hogsmeade today. Think we should check it out?”

“Morning, Professor.”His voice took on a playful tone. “Thought we’d already established that yesterday.” He set his fork down on his plate. “Or have you been hit with a Memory Charm?”

“Making sure you were still interested. We could go now, if your breakfast isn’t too fascinating.”

He looked down at his empty plate. “Not very interesting now that there’s nothing but the plate to admire now. You ready to go, then?”

“Yes,” she answered, not able to keep herself from smiling. Not that there was anything _wrong_ with smiling. It was normal to look forward to a day of clear weather and quality time.

“Great,” James said, and he suddenly stood from his seat, the ugly scraping sound made by his chair obscured by the sounds of excited chatter among the students. “How’s your day so far, Evans?”

“Nothing to get too excited about,” she replied, leading the way to the back of the Hall. “Yet. Do you have big plans for our first Hogsmeade outing as faculty?”

“Obviously. I’ve got to stock up on my diminishing Zonko’s supplies.” He grinned. “Haven’t set any on Filch in a while. Haven’t set anythingon _anyone_ in a while, actually.”

“I think you need more hair pins, actually.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder in an exaggerated motion. “That’s the secret ingredient you’ve been missing. But didn’t you tell me your pranking days were done?”

“I _do,_ don’t I?” He sighed, though the smile on his face didn’t leave. “But what can I say, Hogwarts brings back memories. I can’t help that my suppressed prankster side yearns to return once more.”

“You steal back one map, and you’re no longer a changed man,” she teased, pushing open the main doors to step outside and feel the wind pick up her hair. 

“You _helped_ me steal it back, so you’re automatically an accomplice in the crime.”

“Was that your master plan? To make sure you had someone to take the fall with you?”

“I thought that was implied when you agreed,” he said, burying his hands deep in his pockets when there was an especially cold breeze. “Besides, it was technically Filchwho took it from me in the first place.”

“That’s fair.” Lily copied him by putting her hands in her front pockets to stay warm. “Justice for past wrongs and all that.”

“You know me, always trying get justice.” He let out a deep breath, his eyes trained on the walk ahead. “I’m not the only one getting sweeped up in nostalgia, am I?” He couldn’t look at her. He was slipping past their now-normal pattern of teasing, like he wanted to be serious about their conversation.

Did he know the thought spiral that his harmless invitation began?

“It’s hard not to get a little swept up,” she answered evenly, following his gaze to the path.

He nodded in agreement, offering her a wistful smile. “One second I’ll feel normal, and then next thing I know, I’m suddenly thinking back to the god-awful first kiss that I had with Suzy Davis right in front of Madam Puddifoot’s.”

Relief and disappointment battled with each other in her head.

She was _relieved_ , she told herself. There was no need to explain the weird tangle of memories and thoughts that wouldn’t leave her alone. They were friends, reminiscing about shared and separate pasts. 

“Oh. Yeah. I know what you mean.” The roof of the Three Broomsticks came into view, welcoming her into the village. “I look around and keep remembering all of the things that felt so important back then. Panicking about going to Hogsmeade alone or burying myself in the library before a big exam.”

“I’m glad you didn’t entertain mypanic about going to Hogsmeade alone today. It’s always better with a friend.” He stopped in front of the village, chancing a glance back at her. “Have you any destination that you want to go to first? Madam Puddifoot’s, if you’re into that kind of crap? That hairdressing salon they’ve got across from Honeydukes?”

“If we go to Puddifoot’s, you’re going to have more students asking if we’re getting married,” she answered, letting herself relax. “Besides, I don’t know if I could handle watching so many awkward first dates at once. I’ve got no plans, unless you had ideas. Excited to get out of the castle, mostly. Maybe we can grab some Honeydukes for late night grading sessions?”

“Doesn’t matter where we go. They’re convinced that we’re married no matter whatwe do or say.” He rolled his eyes. “But Honeydukes? Excellent choice.”

With their destination in mind, she started walking again. “I have a stack of ungraded essays sitting on my desk as we speak, so chocolate is absolutely necessary.”

“It also acts as a nice remedy to Dementor attacks, so that’s also a plus.”

“Thanks for the tip, Professor. Hopefully we won’t have a reason to visit Azkaban anytime soon.” She pushed the door open and squeezed into the already-crowded store. She slid past a few students who were too distracted by the candy possibilities to notice that their Potions professor entered. “What kind do you usually go for?”

“All of them,” he responded. “Not just for me to eat later. I liked giving them out to other kids who don’t have parents who make—” He grimaced. _“Made_ more than enough money to buy out the store about a hundred times like I did.” 

“Really?” she responded, though she believed him without hesitation. This was the same person who claimed to save the world as a way to talk to her in a bar. “That makes my stockpiling tendencies look a little selfish.”

“Ah, no, don’t feel that way,” he said quickly. “I swear, I buy enough to last me until the next Hogsmeade trip. There’s not much I could have done with this money, you know? Not as a kid, I mean.”

“Did your…” She stopped, reminding herself that they were standing in a candy shop with dozens of overhearing ears. “Well, you don’t have to worry about me,” she said instead. “I think you’ve heard about my new job.” Lily selected a large bar from the shelf.

“Might have, yeah.” His eyes skimmed over the shelves of sweets, though he made no effort to grab any. “I’ll pay for everything.”

“You don’t need to do that,” she assured him quickly, hand hovering over a smaller version of the bar she initially picked.

“Evans, it’s really no big deal.” He pushed the smaller bar away from her hands and put it back on the shelf, picking up the one that she opted to grab first. “My treat, yeah?”

“James—”

“Professor!”

Lily turned to the new voice, aware of how close they moved to each other to inspect the shelf and the way his fingers still lingered by hers. She withdrew her hand and smiled at the student, trying to look like she didn’t have something to hide.

Because she _didn’t_.

“Stella,” she greeted warmly. “I hope you’re having a good day?”

“I thought it was you!” Stella answered, though her eyes moved to James, holding the chocolate bar Lily picked. “And Professor Potter! I _knew_ you would come together.”

“Students aren’t the only ones who can go to Hogsmeade, Stella,” James said, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “Professors McGonagall and Flitwick come together sometimes, but no one bats an eyelash at that. Is there a reason you’re not with your friends over there?” He used the hand holding the chocolate to motion towards a group of giggling girls.

Stella hid behind her hands but didn’t glance back at her friends. “I just came to say hi,” she offered as explanation, eyes locking on the chocolate in his hand. “Is that for you, Professor?”

“In a sense, yes,” he responded, and Lily watched him plaster a smile on his face. “How are you today, Stella?”

“Great,” she replied, looking between them and practically bouncing on her feet. “Are you having fun, Professors? Fancy plans for the rest of your... The rest of your day?”

“The same as you, probably,” Lily answered, intentionally keeping her shoulders down and expression as neutral as possible. She had enough experience with teenage girls from being one to know that denial or outrage would only promote the idea she wanted to squash. “Enjoying the day.”

“There’s no way you’d rather stop to chat with us when you have so many placesto explore in Hogsmeade today, Stella,” James said, and she heard him crinkling the wrapper of the chocolate in his hands. “You should run along.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to bother you, Professor,” Stella answered, taking a step back. One of the girls from the group broke off and came to her side, looping an arm through hers. “Have a nice day!” 

The other girl tugged her away, and Stella went with her, peering back over her shoulder before exiting the store with her friends. The bell over the door joined with their giggles as it closed behind them.

James breathed out a loud sigh. _“Kids.”_ He looked down at the chocolate in his hand, bent slightly, and he shoved it deep into his pocket, grabbing a new bar. “Somehow, I don’t think you still want that first chocolate bar.”

“It’s fine,” she assured him, shaking her head. She heard whispers of rumors about them but opted to ignore them rather than doing anything that might fan the fire. “Make sure you pick something for yourself too.” She purposely made her voice light, wanting to get back to their banter and the prospect of a day free from the responsibilities of teaching. 

He gave her a cocky smirk, tilting his head sideways to look at her. “And if I pick you?”

“Then, I guess you can’t be mad at poor Stella for lacking subtlety.” She bit her lower lip and turned back to the display, fighting her smile and letting her hair fall as a curtain between them. “Someone might overhear you, Professor.”

“Was a joke, _Professor.”_ He made a grab for four more of the chocolate bars. “Will this last you until the next trip?”

“That depends on how many essays I assign.” She tucked her hair back and let him see her face, plucking another bar from the shelf. “You like toffee, judging by the way your eyes get wide when it’s served for dessert. Maybe I’ll pick for you, else you’ll try to steal my supply.”

“I reckon that means that’s not enough for you.” He grabbed more of the same bars, effectively clearing that row of chocolate.

“I’m not _that_ bad!” She laughed and made a grab for the chocolate. 

“Been watching my reactions to toffee, have you?” James laughed along with her. “Maybe I widen my eyes to trick you into thinking that I like toffee, when really, I’ve been seeing if you’ve been staring.”

“If it’s all a trick, Potter, you must be pretty confident that I’m staring at you. Maybe I’m really looking at the toffee pudding they always put in front of your place.”

“I’m confident now that you’ve admitted to it,” he grinned, holding the chocolate out of her reach. “If that’s the case, I don’t see you reaching out to get some of that pudding. Admit it, Lily Evans, you’ve been watching.”

“You snatch it up before any of us can get a bite, James Potter,” she answered quickly, making another half-hearted swipe at the chocolate in his hand. 

“Maybe I should take you on a tour to the kitchens one night,” he shot back, and he suddenly turned around, heading towards the register.

That pulled her up short, though she followed him to the register after only a slight pause. Was there anything he _didn’t_ know about the castle? “I’ve never been to the kitchens,” she admitted, “Though it shouldn’t surprise me that you know how to get in, based on that map of yours.”

“I’ll take that as a yes, then?” He didn’t bother counting up his money, dunking an assortment of coins onto the counter and offering the clerk a shy smile. “Keep the change.” He turned towards Lily. “That covers both of us, plus more, I’d say.”

“You’re such a show off,” she said, though she took her bag from the clerk and hung it from her wrist. “Do you try this hard to impress everyone you take to Hogsmeade?”

He shook his head. “Why would I feel the need to impress the leastmaterialistic person I know?” He scratched the back of his head awkwardly with his free hand. “I don’t like impressing people with my money, anyway.”

“I’m teasing,” she added, letting the back of her hand bump against his like it was an accident. “Let’s go before you buy out the whole store.”

“Who is to say that I haven’t done that already?” he replied, but he complied with her request, and they were stepping out onto the busy streets once again. “Where to next?”

Lily shrugged and adjusted the collar of her robe, trying to fend off the worst of the cool wind. “Candy was my priority. Anything you need to get through the week?”

He shrugged. “Not in particular. Feels like everything was more exciting as a kid. You hungry?”

“We can stay out after curfew now,” she countered. “A bite at the Three Broomsticks to feel like we hit all the high points?”

“Now that you’ve requested it, I feel inclined not to turn you down.” He flashed her another one of his easy grins. “I’m alwaysdown for the Three Broomsticks.”

Her hand brushed his again, and she wasn’t sure if she meant it to happen that time. Pushing open the door of the pub, she cast a look around for a free table. “Grab us a spot. I’ll get drinks.”

He nodded, giving her a mock salute, before walking away. 

Lily made her way through the bustling floor, slipping in between people at the bar to order two butterbeers. Passing over a few coins in exchange, she took the warm mugs and held them close to her chest while she navigated her way back, trying to move onto her toes every so often to look for wherever James claimed a spot.

She spotted the back of his head at one of the tables in the corner, away from the busiest parts of the place. Lily slid his mug across the table to him and took the seat opposite. “Mission success.”

“Didn’t need a hair pin for this,” he replied easily, wrapping his hand around hers when she hadn’t yet let go of the mug. She recoiled, though not quickly enough that he’d notice and be offended. “Let’s drink to this lovely day spent in Hogsmeade and notcooped up in an office for the day.”

Knocking the side of her mug against his, she took a drink and wiped the foam from her lip with the back of her hand. “Cheers. How have your classes been? I’ve already noticed some of the kids getting better and wanted to know if—” She shook her head, tapping her nails against her mug. “Unless you don’t want to talk about work.”

“Seeing as we always somehow manage to divert from the original discussion, I don’t mind a bit if you want to talk about work.”

She smiled a little sheepishly and took another drink. “How are your classes?”

“They’re showing loads of progress, which I don’t really think is saying much considering the fact that their previous professors haven’t done shit, but it’s better than nothing.” He took a long drink of the butterbeer and wiped at the excess that had pooled over his mouth.

“Guess that’s what happens when they say the position’s cursed. It’s a wonder any of us passed our exams with a new professor every year.” 

“You know, it’s really insensitive to say the position’s cursed when _I’m_ the current professor,” he said teasingly. “If I die at the end of this year, I’ll be calling you a murderer as I sit and watch you up in the clouds.”

“Maybe you’ll leave us for something better,” she replied immediately, tracing the rim of her mug. “Become a famous auror or travel the world or take over the European Quidditch League.”

“Feel like we’ve had this conversation before,” he said, leaning back in his seat. “Over drinks, no less. I’d feel a bit like an arse doing the last two when there’s so much I could do to help our side of the war. People will never stop being prejudiced.”

“Maybe the war will be over,” she answered, looking past him and continuing to idly make patterns in the condensation on the glass with her finger. “Maybe we’ll be able to be normal twenty-somethings.”

“Maybe,” he agreed quietly. Somehow, the conversation had taken a dark turn. “Five years in, and there still isn’t a clear ending. Wish I was still a teen: young and foolish and unaware of all the evil in the world because I was too distracted by trivial things like love.” He stopped himself, cursing, perhaps saying more than he intended to say.

“Love’s a nice distraction.” She traced the shape of a heart into her mug and wiped it away with her thumb, hoping he didn’t notice. “It’s been happening the whole time— ever since I learned about magic. I try to stay hopeful. That one day, I’ll live in a world with magic and without a war.”

He took to focusing his gaze on his drink, swirling the liquid inside of his mug as if it was the most entertaining thing in the world. “It’s good that you’re staying optimistic, Evans, even if there’s a chance we won’t make it to see the outcome.”

“Why are you wasting time on our not-date when you have some world-saving girl out there to woo?” She glanced up from her drink to look across the table at him and hoped it would do something about his solemn expression. “It’s better than the alternative. I have to stay hopeful that one day…” She shook her head and let out a breath. “When you spend your whole life being told that you’re not good enough because of something you can’t control, something you aren’t ashamed of, you have to find a way to cope. I want to make a world I’d want my kids to live in. Not that I _have_ kids and maybe won’t, but you know what I mean.”

“I— _fuck._ No, you’re right, Evans. Sorry. I’m not going to bloody waste our time moping over some crush from the past. It’s not fair to you.” He returned her gaze, his honey-coloured eyes looking at her steadily. “The world doesn’t deserve you. You’re too good for this bloody war-torn world.”

“All of us deserve better.” Lily took another drink to relieve some of the weight of his gaze. Her skin felt hot where he looked at her, so she leaned her cheek against her palm. “That’s why we’re doing something about it, isn’t it? Or, at least, why we’re trying. Why we’re trying to find something meaningful in the middle of it all.”

“I reckon so.” He flattened his hands against the surface of the table before enclosing them once again, pulling his hands into his lap. “Just wish that people would stop judging others based on their family lineage. We’re all wizards, and we all have magic. It shouldn’t be something worth the fight for, but with all of these lives at stake, it’s hard to not want to be involved. To _not_ want to make some sort of difference in the world.”

“Yeah,” she said softly, blinking quickly and taking another long drink. “We can’t let them beat us.” She put her mug back on the table a little harder than she intended and dropped her hands to her lap. “We’re going to make a difference. Teaching the next group of kids, figuring out who some of the bad guys are. It all has to mean _something_.”

He didn’t say anything— not _immediately_ after, anyway— merely turning his gaze towards his hands in his lap, and he noticeably swallowed. She couldn’t decipher what he might have been thinking. 

His eyes suddenly met her own, and he let out a light laugh. “I feel so selfish sometimes, you know? Like, why us?Why does it have be _us_ fighting in this war? Why now?We’re so young,Lily. We’ve got our whole bloody lives ahead of us, and with this war in the way, I don’t even know if there’s much of our lives left to live. AllI ever wanted was to have kids of my own and live in a world protected from dangers like, I dunno, vampires,not people who are so hellbenton getting rid of people like you, people who are just as capable with magic. I— It’s selfish of me, I know.”

“It’s not selfish,” she nearly whispered, not dropping her gaze from his. “I mean, I— why _does_ it have to be us? Why did I get this gift, this world where I’m not— There’s a whole world that my parents didn’t know anything about, and it’s in the middle of… It’s _not_ fair, James. It’s not fair that we’re reading obituaries and missing person reports instead of silly gossip pages. It’s not fair that I can barely get a job without the most powerful wizard in the world hiring me. It’s _not_ fair, and it’s _not_ selfish to think so.” She shook her head, not daring to let her eyes wander from his. “But I can’t leave it for someone else. I’ll fight it so one day people can have kids who won’t have to.”

He broke away from her gaze, looking up, down, left, right, about anywhereelse in the room that didn’t have her in his immediate view, before meeting her eyes once more. “The world doesn’t deserve you, Lily. You make all this talk about _me_ saving the world, but in the end, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was _you_ who ended up saving the entirety of the wizarding world.”

She let out a short laugh and finished her butterbeer, pushing the empty mug toward the center of the table. “I don’t know about that,” she answered, knitting her fingers together and looking down at her thumbs. “I didn’t mean to ruin our drinks, by the way. It’s nice to have someone who… gets it.” She looked back up at him. “Did war talk make it the worst Hogsmeade trip you’ve ever been on?”

He looked as if he had more to say on the matter, but he didn’t press on, instead running a hand through his hair and allowing the tenseness to fade from his face. “You didn’t ruin it. Swear. Nothingcan be worse than the first Hogsmeade date I ever went on— not that this is a date, but... yeah. You get what I mean. This was one of the best trips, actually.”

“We all have one of those,” she agreed, her shoulders losing some of their tension. “Are you ready to go back to the real world? Though, I suppose, we didn't really escape it here.”

“I’d really rather not. The real world has death on it agenda. The Three Broomsticks has butterbeer, but if we _have_ to....”

“It's still Hogwarts,” she said, letting herself smile. “Hogwarts _is_ magic.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, the traces of a smile working its way on his face as well. “It’s beginning to feel like home again.” 

“It's always home.”


	10. Chapter 10

He didn’t see her at dinner.

He made that observation immediately upon entering the Great Hall, which was bustling with the usual chatter. The fact that the day had been quite long didn’t seem to wear any of the students down. If anything, it seemed to give them _more_ reason to be talkative. 

James, on the other hand, was one of those worn down from the events of the day. He’d taken to looking forward to dinnertime, where he could talk about just about anything with Lily—anything _except_ the swarm of feelings that threatened to choke him whenever he thoughtabout her. Somehow, despite the fact that he was soobvious about his feelings, she hadn’t realised it. That,or she was really good at hiding what she knew from him.

He sincerely hoped it was the former. The thought of her knowing but not doing anything about his feelings was enough of a mood dampener as it was. James didn’t need her to approach him one day and tell him that she’d like to cut off all connections with him because she didn’t reciprocate his feelings. Never did, and never would. 

Of course, that would never happen, because that wasn’t the kind of person she was. The kind of person that she was... Well, she was a _kind_ person. The _kindest_ person he’d ever met.

He needed to pay her back for her kindness in some way.

James would have to check on her to make sure that she was fine and not sprawled out on the floor in a puddle of blood. That was fartoo devastating for him to even imagine, and so he resolved to risk indigestion, eating faster if it meant that he could finish his meal and get to her sooner.

After a quick stop in the kitchens, having requested the House Elves to prepare him a batch of soup and a pitcher of pumpkin juice, he made his way to the Dungeons. She hadto be lonely in there, because while he had the comfort of the library and the friendly portraits (not to mention Moaning Myrtle, who was thankfully located in the bathroom on the opposite side of the corridor), she only had the slimy Slytherins to keep herself company. 

He made his way to her office, knocking on the door and waiting with highhopes for her to open it and let him inside.

There was a long pause, long enough that he wondered if he should turn around and hope she appeared at breakfast the next morning. Long enough that the pitcher heavy in his hand and the passing time made his mind spin at what could have happened.

Finally, the door creaked open by a few inches. Startling green eyes blinked at him a few times before she pushed the door back so he could see her whole face. Lily had the quilt she always kept by her desk wrapped around her shoulders. She pulled it more tightly around herself and sniffled, drawing his attention to her red-tipped nose and pale cheeks. 

“James.” A scratch in her voice masked some of the surprise. 

“Lily. Hi,” he said, blinking down at the sight of her. “You’re sick.”

Her laugh was cut short by a few weak coughs. “It's just a cold. Madame Pomfrey advised a Pepper Up Potion and rest.”

“Still, you’re—” He stopped himself, remembering the items in his hand, and he held them out to her. “You should eat. It’ll help you feel better.”

“You brought me dinner?” she asked, looking down at his hands and gripping the edge of her quilt.

He nodded. “It gets a bit lonely down here, doesn’t it?” 

“I'm not very good company right now,” she said, opening the door slightly. “But you can come in, if you want.”

“Of course I want to come in.” He stepped inside, closing the door softly behind him. He made nice, even strides towards her desk, placing the soup and juice in an area away from any papers that could get ruined. 

“I tried grading, but I've lost my ability to think,” she said, shuffling her papers into a pile and dropping them in a drawer. “You didn't have to.” Lily sat heavily on the chair behind her desk and gave him a wobbly smile. “It's good to see you, though.” 

“I _did_ have to, actually,” he replied, plopping himself down on the seat across from her. “That’s what friends are for, right? You of all people should know how much I’d rather see you than grade essays.”

“Usually, though, I’m more fun and less tissues.” Lily pulled the soup toward her. “This probably smells amazing, but I couldn't smell Amortentia if I brewed it right now. Did you eat?”

“You’re _always_ fun,” he assured her. “I’d offer to smell it for you, but that sounds weird. It came from the kitchen, so I’d say that it’s delicious, but taste and smell are completely subjective, so who knows?” 

He was rambling now.

He was _always_ rambling around her, but that could hardly be helped. Their conversations— post their enemy stage— were almost always judgment-free, and he never feared speaking his mind, unless it came to a point where he almost declared his feelings to her. He resisted the urge to run a hand through his hair. “I ate before I got here.”

She nodded and offered him a small smile. “Thank you. Really. It’s sweet of you to think of me.” Picking up the spoon, it was halfway to her mouth for the first bite when she dropped it with a clatter. Quickly, she ducked behind her desk and rifled through the drawers. She popped back up, hair wild. “I'm a horrible hostess.” Lily put two chipped mugs on the desk, pushing one over to him. “Help yourself to pumpkin juice. They didn't survive the move completely unscathed, but they do the job.”

“I already—” He stopped himself, knowing that she would insist on him taking it. Reaching for the mug, he poured some juice. “You’re far from horrible. Thanks.”

Satisfied, Lily poured herself some juice and sat back in her chair. She succeeded in eating the soup this time, making an exaggerated face to show her appreciation. She ate nearly half the bowl in comfortable silence before she looked back up at him, color on her cheeks.

“Sorry,” she said. “It's the first warm thing I had all day. You're a godsend.”

“It’s all right,” he replied, waving it off and hoping that he didn’tlook like a creep as he sat there and watched as she ate— drank? he questioned internally— the soup. Perhaps he should have brought a serving for himself so that they could have eaten together. “You really do wonders for my ego.” 

“I'll be back on my feet soon and coming up with ways to return the favour.” 

He ignored the unrealistic and inappropriate favours that his mind conjured up at her words. 

Lily shrugged the quilt more securely on her shoulders. Before she could take another bite, she dropped the spoon in a coughing fit, bending over with the effort.

He was up in a matter of seconds, quickly rushing to her side. “Evans, are you all right?”

Of _course,_ she wasn’t all right. 

Patting her on the back might make matters worse, so he only hoped for the best, grabbing her mug of pumpkin juice and handing it to her instead.

She tried to wave him away, but he wouldn't be deterred. After a few more coughs she sat up, eyes watering but not more obviously worse off than she was before. “I'm okay,” she said, voice rougher as she took the mug from him. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “You don't have to worry.”

“Do you need anything?” he asked, eyes softening in concern. “I can get anything from Pomfrey, if you’d like.”

“No,” she waved him away again. “Your company is more than enough. I hate being sick, but she said it would pass soon. Please, sit down, if I haven't scared you off.”

_Merlin,_ she was stubborn. 

He complied, sitting back down. “I haven’t woken you up from your sleep, have I?”

She shook her head and ate more soup. “I tried to mark a few essays, but it wasn't going well. I'll try again tomorrow.”

“You should get some rest, Lil. Don’t let me keep you up when you could be catching some sleep.”

Lily nudged his pumpkin juice closer to him and took a drink of her own. “Madame Pomfrey would probably want me to eat, and you’re making sure I do. Besides, it’s going to take me ages to fall asleep.”

He shrugged, taking a sip of his juice. “You could always down some sleeping potion, if it has to come down to it.”

“That’s the plan.” Lily tilted the bowl back to drink the last of it, pushing it toward the center of her desk when she was done. “Do I pass, Professor?”

“Not until you get some rest, _Professor,”_ he said back, fighting the urge to smile in spite of himself. 

Lily pulled the quilt up around her chin and sank back into her chair. It covered her mouth and nose, but some of the glassiness left her eyes. “If you want to leave that badly, I won’t keep you.”

“Didn’t say I wanted to leave. Your wellbeing takes precedence before anything else.”

“It’s only a cold,” she assured him again. “You worry too much. Did I miss anything at dinner?”

“I’m worried about the _right_ things,” he corrected her, and he drank the last drop of his pumpkin juice. “Besides the actual dinner, you didn’t miss anything.”

“Luckily, I had a delivery service.” She pulled her legs onto the chair with her and wrapped her quilt around them. “Did someone tell you I was down here?”

“Not someone.”He patted his pocket, which held his map. “But something.”

“Already coming in handy. I’d be shivering down here by myself if we hadn’t nicked it.”

“I would have guessed where you’d be anyway. The Map’s only a shortcut.” 

“How’d you know to look? Were the kids talking about me being strange in class?”

“Nah, I don’t listen to their gossip,” he answered, running his fingers along the cracks of the mug, not sharp enough to cut. “I know you.”

“What do you mean?”

He looked at her, ignoring the somersaults of his heart at the sight of her. “No matter how bad you feel or how upset you are, you still find it in yourself to put others first. You always put your job before yourself, because it means a lot to you, knowing that some people might think you’re not fit for the role. You want to provethat you’re more than capable, and so you’ll always be down here working to show that you’re worth it. I _know_ you, Lily.”

She looked up at him, jaw moving like she was trying to decide what to say next. Opening her mouth and shutting it again came with no result, so she moved in her chair, rearranging the quilt around her and looking away from his serious expression. “All that because I missed dinner?” she asked carefully, picking at a loose thread. “You make me sound more noble than stubborn.” 

“You can be both,” he told her, his eyes never leaving her face. “If I was in your place, I’d probably use it as an excuse to get as much of a break as possible. I’d have tucked myself into bed without even so much as look at the work piling on my desk.”

“But then no one would have brought me soup,” she answered, though her scratchy voice didn’t commit to the joke. 

“I would have found a way to get it to you.” 

That brought her eyes back to him. “Thanks, James,” she said quietly. “I’d hug you, but I don’t want you to get sick too.”

“Don’t worry about that.” In one quick motion, he wrapped his arms around her, feeling the warmth of her body in his arms. 

Lily giggled against his chest, but it caught in her throat and sounded lower than her usual laughter. She freed herself from the quilt enough to put her arms around him and pressed her warm forehead against his shoulder. “Pomfrey’ll kill me if I get anyone else sick.” She squeezed him once and let go, wrapping herself in the quilt again and looking more flushed than pale. “Thanks again. This was exactly what I needed.”

_“Sleep_ is what you need,” he said and hesitantly moved his hands away. 

She attempted to hide a yawn with her quilt-covered hand. “Fine, fine. I guess I can get that rest Pomfrey was lecturing me about.”

“Well, it’s very important if you want to get better.” He took the papers lying haphazardly across her desk and stacked them into a neat pile. “The essays can wait another day.”

She considered for a brief moment before she spoke again. “Did you want to get together to mark essays sometime?” she said in a rush. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I thought… We have to do it anyway, so it might make it more bearable.” She looked down at a loose thread again and twirled it between her fingers. “I can bring chocolate to make up for you having to run down here with soup.”

“Bring yourself,and I’ll be content.” He smiled at her, standing up and taking it as a cue that he was to leave soon. “Will you be all right by yourself?”

“Yeah,” she answered, standing to gather the quilt around herself and show him to the door. “I’ll even be good and sleep. Good night, James.”

He looked at her again, smiling softly as he memorised the sight of her. “Good night, Lily.”

—

She wasn’t fifteen anymore.

Despite the stack of unmarked essays in her bag and her place at the front table in the Great Hall, Lily had to remind herself of that fact repeatedly. The familiar walls and bustle of a castle filled with teenagers made her feel like one herself. It was easy to sink back into Hogwarts mode, to think and feel the same things that she thought and felt when _she_ had been the one studying for exams. 

The skip in her chest was from a combination of the general mood of Hogwarts, a boy doing nice things for her, and being away from other people her age.

That had to be it. 

She had one friend who lived close enough to talk every day, and her mind was rushing to assign motives that didn’t exist to everything he did.

Asking to mark papers with him hadn’t been an elaborate declaration. It was exactly what she asked for: a way to spend more time with him and make a task they had to complete more bearable. He had to grade as many essays as she did.

With chocolate under her arm and the scratch gone from her throat, Lily was confident that she could work through the mess in her head while spending time with him. He didn’t deserve to have no company because she couldn’t figure things out.

Lily knocked on his office door. 

He didn’t take long to answer, and when the door swung open, she was met by his warm smile. “I see you’ve stayed true to your word.” He motioned towards the chocolate in her hand. “Come in, yeah?”

“Had to bring supplies,” she replied, following him and pushing the door closed behind her. “Now that I don’t have the excuse of being sick to avoid my essays any longer.”

“You’ve gotten better, then?” 

“Good as new.” Lily spun in place to prove her point and sat on the couch against the wall, deciding it was more comfortable than the chair in front of his desk. 

“That’s good to hear.” He plopped himself beside her with a pile of essays in hand. “Ah, isn’t it fitting that the first essay for the night starts with the exact same sentence as the textbook lesson that begins the topic? Kids. Must think we’re idiots or something.” 

“I asked for analysis this week,” she replied, crossing her legs and propping a stack of papers on her thigh. “That stops some of the worst of it.”

He hummed in acknowledgement. “Smart idea. Should probably start doing that.” He summoned a stool with the wave of his wand and propped his legs on top of it. 

Lily focused intently on the quill in her hand instead of the arm that brushed hers every so often, letting them sink into a comfortable almost-silence of scratches against parchment and shuffling papers. She caught herself leaning to one side, making their arms touch more often, before she righted herself, forcing her mind back to the uses of a Shrinking Solution. 

He didn’t even seem to realise the effect that he was having on her.

Every so often, James made sounds of contemplation before scribbling frantically on the essay that he was grading. Sometimes, she found her eyes wandering to the papers in his lap, and amidst his messy penmanship, she made out the helpful tips or notes of praise. She forced herself back to her essays, chastising herself.

“Could you hand me a piece of chocolate?” he asked, his eyes never leaving the writing of one _Thomas Lott,_ as written hastily at the top of the parchment.

She broke off a piece of her bar, offering it to him. Lily let her gaze move up his arm as he took it but stopped before she reached his face. Forcing her eyes back to the essay in front of her, she took a large bite of chocolate and made a mark over the incorrect use of an ingredient.

It was hard to tell how much time passed. Judging by the rate of his page turning, he was working through his papers faster than she was. Flipping over one of the rolls of parchment, she heaved a sigh and leaned her head to the side until it rested against another surface.

It took a second to realize that the other surface was _his shoulder_.

_Fuck._

Her first urge was to jerk her head away, but that might draw _more_ attention to the fact that she did it. Instead, she swallowed and tried to relax, as if this was a perfectly natural thing to do with a friend who happened grade essays with her and happened to notice that she missed dinner one day and needed to bring her something to eat.

Perfectly natural.

He, of course, would gently push her aside. He would be too good to say anything about it, and they would never speak of it again. They would eat their chocolate and grade essays in silence until it was acceptable for her to leave. She would never invite herself into his office again, and they would continue like it never happened.

But that wasn’twhat happened. 

The only indication that he noticed was the sudden stiffness in his shoulder, but he quickly relaxed, shifting so her head was in a better position. He continued skimming through the essay for a few seconds until he paused. With a slight hesitation, James reached over to press a quick kiss to her forehead.

At first, Lily was quite sure she imagined it. The tangle of thoughts in her head must have formed into a fantasy and convinced her that he actually _kissed_ her. It was only on the forehead and they had exchanged more intimatekisses in the past, but this wasn’t like their other kisses.

It wasn’t a hastily planned trip to a broom cupboard with his lips moving everywhere because they didn’t know how much time they had. It wasn’t a kiss with an agenda, the way she pulled him against her when they thought they would only see each other for one night. It wasn’t the rough way he pushed her back against the wall when he was angry.

It was a soft kiss, the kind someone gave when they cared.

She didn’t move right away, waiting for the inevitable intake of breath and apology. When it didn’t come, she tilted her chin back. His eyes were focused on a point in front of him, likely the essays, but she couldn’t stop watching. The flickering light in his office danced across his skin. 

Slowly, as if moving too quickly would ruin the moment, Lily leaned forward. 

She kissed him the way he kissed her. Gently, pressing her lips against his in a greeting that made her toes tingle. Abandoning the quill, Lily’s fingers found the collar of his robe. She waited for permission or denial, the swirl in her brain turning into pleasant fog. 

He was frozen in place, and she would have recoiled in embarrassment had it not been for the way his mouth suddenly began moving against her lips, reciprocating the action she so desperately hoped for him to return. It was far slower than any of the kisses they shared, so unlike anything else.

They were _kissing._

She couldn’t help but be swept up by everything she felt, every part of her that _he_ felt, with his fingers ghosting over her skin. The coolness of his glasses contrasted against the heat that his touch brought, but she didn’t mind, instead allowing her hands to fly up to his hair, soft and messy and all _James._

_James._

_James Potter._

The thought was an invasion, pulling her out of the way his touch made her feel. Pulling her out of the kiss and into reality. 

They were in hisoffice, at _Hogwarts_ , attempting to do grading for their _jobs_ , and they were _kissing_. They were kissing with essays falling onto the floor, forgotten, like she had forgotten every comment and every insinuation that could be made if anyone knew about this.

Lily pulled away, her eyes wide and hands unsure of where they could go. They wanted to touch him, to pull herself against him, to forget about whatever people would say. 

Her mind battled against it. People would want a reason to judge her. They would want a reason to say that she wasn’t good enough, that she didn’t deserve it, that she was nothing more than a pretty ornament who could get to higher places by doing favors.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, feeling every inch of space between them. “I…”

“No, no, it’s my fault. I should have stopped you as soon as it happened,” James said, his eyes wide behind his glasses. His hands, which had been secure on her shoulder and in her hair, quickly made their way into his own hair, as if her hands hadn’t just been there. “We— no, don’t be sorry.”

_I should have stopped you as soon as it happened._

Any burst of hope, no matter how foolish and misguided it was, shriveled in her chest. Her worries about public perception didn’t matter, because he didn’t feel the same way. 

“I shouldn’t have done that.” Lily stood, ignoring her shaking knees to collect the fallen papers. “I should go. I…” She stuffed the parchment into her bag, willing herself to get out of there with as much dignity intact as possible. “I’m sorry.”

“Lily, you don’t have to leave.”

“That was completely—” Her voice started to break, and she shook her head, letting her hair block his view. “I’m sorry. I should go.”

He stood up. “Lily…”

Did she want to know what he had to say?

He’d let her down carefully. He’d say it in the right way to make her think it wasn’t her fault. He’d be soothing and patient, assuring her that they could still be friends and she hadn’t thrown a rock through the glass house of their friendship.

And she’d still be a mess.

“I…” Lily said again, unable to move once her eyes met his.

“Are you all right?” he asked her, offering her a comforting smile and confirming her visions of what he would say next. She didn’t want to hear it. 

It didn’t matter, she knew. They couldn’t do this. But it still hurt to realize that the feelings that overtook her, that made her heart skip when he smiled and made her pull him closer to taste, didn’t happen for him.

“I’m going to go.”

She couldn’t stay a second longer. She couldn’t see the pity in his eyes and know that she was the stupid little girl who was in over her head again. The girl who let her heart get in the way of what her mind knew and was upset because feelings that she couldn’t have weren’t echoed.

Lily turned for the door quickly, blinking rapidly and schooling her features. She barely registered the quiet words that left his mouth. 

“I’m sorry, Lily.”


	11. Chapter 11

He was in the wrong.

He _had_ to be in the wrong.

He had no idea whathe did that put him on the criminal side, but when Lily left his office so abruptly after they kissed, he _had_ to be the one at fault. No matter how much thought he put into the situation, however, he couldn’t pinpoint what he’d done to make her so upset.

He didn’t initiate the kiss this time, and, although he was completely taken by surprise, he didn’t make any effort to pull away, thinking that she wanted to do it as much as he had, for whatever reason unbeknownst to him. Perhaps she had been testing him, seeing if he would act on any of his urges, and because he’d kissed her back, he failed her test.

Maybe, because they brushed up against each other too many times for it to have been accidental, and he didn’t do anything about it, she took matters into her own hands to get him to stop.

He just… he didn’t know what he was doing with himself. With _her._

She broke the kiss with a string of apologies, but the only reason that he could see for her apologies was because she kissed him without warning. He was willing to hear her out, was willing to make her feel better by assuring her that she didn’t have to be upset, but she left him without any other words.

He wasn’t mad at her. If anything, he was mad at _himself._ Mad that he didn’t push her away. Mad that because he chose to kiss her back, their friendship was jeopardized.

All he wanted was to hold her close in his arms, to feel the softness of her lips once more, but instead, he was staring at the wall, the posters that he put up blurring together as he continually lost focus on his surroundings.

They hadn’t seen each other in two days, but with their upcoming Order meeting together, that streak would end. No matter how much she tried to avoid him, he knew that she wouldn’t put off work for him. He wasn’t worth that.

Needless to say, Lily Evans jumbled his thought processes yet again.

Predictably, her knock came right before the clock struck the hour. She looked so much like her usual self, with her familiar bag slung over her shoulder and hair tied back like she came straight from Potions class. If not for the past two days, which was the longest they had gone without seeing each other since they made a deal to be friends, James would almost think that everything was fine.

Almost.

“Hello,” she said, meeting his eyes but having no other outward reaction. “Can I come in?”

“I don’t intend to keep you outside,” he responded, but the joke didn’t even seem to faze her. 

Lily nodded, stepping inside without another word. She crossed the room and sat in the chair in front of his desk, notably ignoring the couch against the wall. Dutifully, she dropped her bag beside the chair and pulled out a few rolls of parchment. “I marked a few things I thought you should take a second look at,” she said, lining the rolls along the edge of his desk and not looking back at him. “We can sort out what we need to have ready for the next meeting and anything else you think I should know. You've been around longer and can fill me in.”

He made his way towards his desk, seating himself across from her. “I’ll look at them now, then.” His hands reached for the rolls, but he didn’t open them up quite yet, averting his gaze to her. Nowwould be a good time to clear up some of the confusion. “Are you all right, Lily?”

“I'm fine,” she answered shortly, eyes on the blank parchment she rolled out in front of herself. Her features were schooled, not showing any tension or expression. “How are you?” The last bit was added politely, sounding like a formality. 

Seeing her without a spark of _something_ was wrong.

“I’m fine,” he repeated, not liking the atmosphere. He wasn’t fine. He was _far_ from fine. He was a puddle of emotions— confusion, concern, _love—_ and _fine_ wasn’t at all telling of how he felt.

They were (mostly)honest with each other, but he could tellhow much of a lie their words were this time. Neither of them were fine, and from how stubborn she was, he knew that she wouldn’t admit anything otherwise anytime soon. 

“Bad,” he corrected himself, after she had already nodded in acknowledgement to his first response. “I’m bad.”

She looked up, swallowed, and met his eyes fully for the first time that evening. For a moment, she was undecided, her fingers still. “I can go, if that's what you want.”

“I— no, that’s not what I want.”

“I meant it when I said I was sorry. I don't…” She dropped his gaze, picking nervously at her nail. “I don't know how to make it better.”

“We can leave it in the past,” he suggested, unrolling the closest roll of parchment to him, but whatever the words said, he wasn’t able to make them out. “That’s what we did when I, you know, started it that other time.” 

She didn't answer right away. 

James didn't look up at her, but he could hear the parchment crinkle under her fingers.

“Okay,” Lily said after her pause. “We'll do that. It's… It happened. Now we're even and can move past it.”

He gave her a soft smile, which she weakly returned, but he couldn’t help but notice the dimness in her eyes. “We’ve got an interesting history. I’m sure we can get over it.”

_Get over it,_ he said, like he hadn’t been thinking about that kiss for the days that they were apart, like the kiss hadn’t plagued his waking thoughts until the time he fell asleep. Even then, the feel of her lips still haunted him in his dreams. Heprobably couldn’t get over it, but if he deluded himself into thinking so, then their friendship could still be saved.

They’d gone much farther in the past. Who was to say that a kiss had to ruin it for them?

“You're right,” she agreed, not letting her small smile drop. “We were good friends, and we'll keep being good friends.” 

“We don’t really have much choice,” he replied, picking up his quill. The word _friends_ rang in his ear, as if it was an infuriating bell sound. “We’ll have to put up with each other no matter what happens. Part of the job.”

Her smile wavered. “I don't only want to put up with each other. Hogwarts is loads better when we're friends.”

Quickly, he added, “I do too— want to be friends, that is. Friends understand and support each other. I want to reap every benefit that friendships have to offer. Friends are— yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Definitely friends.”

He was fumbling his words, but when _friends—_ friends, friends, friends, friends— was stuck in his head, he couldn’t talk about anything else. There was privacy that he had to respect, and he couldn’t dig into her mind to seewhy she’d kissed him. Not when she hadn’t pried when he kissed her first.

“Okay. Great. I— This is great.” Lily smoothed her robe over her legs, visibly shaking off some of her nerves. “We have that settled. So, what do I need to know to be the best Order member?”

James shrugged. “You don’t need to know anything. Go look in the mirror. I can assure you that you’ll see the best Order member there.” 

“Do you have it aimed to show you too?” She teased him back, and her smile was less forced. 

“If we can fit in the frame, yeah, I reckon it could show both of us,” he returned.

“I mean it. I want to catch up, to make sure no one thinks they have to slow down for me.”

He looked at her. “I could teach you some helpful spells, if you’d like.”

She nodded eagerly, moving to the front of her seat. “Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts.”

“Great.” He slapped his quill down on his desk, not exactly eager to look at boring papers. “I’ll take it you never learned the Patronus charm?”

A crease formed between her brows. “Do you have to use that often? I didn't think we would run into dementors. That's what the charm is for, isn't it?”

“You never know,” he said with a shrug. “The other side’s recruiting werewolves and about any creature they could convince. Dementors could be the next thing on their radar. I’d say it’s better to be safe than sorry, wouldn’t you say?”

“I suppose so,” she answered, leaning forward in her seat. “Can't hurt, anyway.”

“Besides,” he continued, “It’s how we communicate in the Order. Don’t wanna leave you in the dark about anything.”

“How do you _communicate_ with them?” Lily asked, tilting her head to the side. 

“We’ll get into the specifics later.” He rose from his seat, circling around his desk to get closer to her. “Patronuses are used to ward off evil, so naturally, it makes sense that to cast a Patronus charm, you’ll need to think of the happiest moment of your life. Following?”

“Okay,” she answered hesitatingly, pushing the chair back to stand. “The happiest moment of my life.”

“You have it?”

Her nose scrunched for a few seconds in thought. “Yeah. I have it.”

He vaguely wondered what the happiest moment of her life was, the one moment that brought the brightest of smiles to her face, but he pushed that thought away. “Focus on it.”

Lily nodded again uncertainly and pulled her wand from her pocket. “Focusing.”

“Let it take over your entire mind,” he continued, “It can only take on a corporeal form if the memory’s powerful.”

“The incantation is…?”

“Not yet,” he said patiently. “Draw circles with your wand. It’ll increase the strength of your spell.” 

She followed his directions, her wand moving slowly and steadily. 

He smiled. “ _Expecto Patronum_ is what you say.”

“ _Expecto Patronum,_ ” she repeated, practicing the words. She closed her eyes and continued moving her wand slowly before saying with more force, “ _Expecto Patronum!_ ” Silver mist came from her wand in a moving vapor. She opened her eyes to see the spell curve around the office and fade away.

“Don’t be discouraged,” he said upon seeing the disappointed look in her eyes. “I had to practice for days until I got a full Patronus. Think of a stronger memory and try again.”

“What do you mean, stronger? What kind of memory is _strong_ enough?” Some of her frustration leaked into her voice.

“Think of something happy that you can remember _all_ the details. One that made you so bloody happy that it still makes you smile at the thought of. _That_ sort of strong.”

Lily sighed and held her wand up again. She closed her eyes and opened them, focused on a point in front of her. 

“ _Expecto Patronum!_ ”

This time, the hint of an animal could be seen in the vapor. There was a body, four delicate legs, and a bucking head. Lily watched, entranced, as the creature made a round of the office and disappeared.

“Better,”he smiled. “You can either use that memory again and try to pay more attention to the smaller details, or you can find another memory that you think is stronger. Your pick.”

Letting out another breath, Lily schooled her features back into place. “Okay. Details. Stronger.” She straightened her shoulders and raised her wand. “ _Expecto Patronum!_ ” This was the best one yet, a creature emerging to dance across the room and give them a luxurious nod before disappearing before they could discern the exact shape. 

He couldn’t keep the grin off his face. “And again!”

She swiped a hand across her forehead, but she was smiling. “Do you make all of your classes work this hard for a compliment, Professor?”

“I make all of my classes work hard to get better,”he replied, flashing her a crooked grin. “You’ll get it. I believe in you.”

She rolled her eyes but fixed her posture again and took a collecting breath. She said the incantation, “ _Expecto_ _Patronum_!” and kept her eyes open this time. 

The form was unmistakable. The animal tossed her thin silver head royally as the doe picked up its feet. It made its way around the office, making the stone walls and old furniture look dull in comparison. 

James’ wand fell from his hand.

Her Patronus was a _doe._

“I…” He was at a complete loss for words, and, almost robotically, he reached down to retrieve the fallen tool. Though he hadn’t given any thought as to what her Patronus could have been, he hadn't expected it to be _that_ animal.

“Was that better?” Oblivious to his realization, a proud grin stretched across her cheeks. She knew it was done well, even if she wasn't an expert. “Was it a deer? I remember reading something about them being different for different people.”

“I— yeah. It was something like a deer.” He cleared his throat. “Good job, Evans.” 

“Thanks, Potter,” she answered, her proud grin not fading. “How is yours?”

“I can do it. Just, we should get going for the night, yeah? It’s getting late.” He didn’t want to show her his Patronus. Not now, not _today._

“James Potter, shy about something he can do probably better than me? I almost don't believe it.”

“I’m sure you _must_ be tired from all those attempts. Get some rest,” he told her, ignoring the light compliment in her words. “You don’t have to stay back because of me.”

“Oh.” Something in her face changed, but she quickly covered it. Pushing her hair back, she pocketed her wand. “All right. You'll look over the notes I left?”

“That’s the plan,” he said, giving her a curt nod. “You’ll be on your way, then?”

“Yeah, I can go. Let you relax.” Lily picked up her bag from the floor and slid it onto her shoulder. “Have a good night.”

“Night, Evans.”

She paused, as if she wanted to say something. Rather than actually saying anything, though, she raised her hand in a short wave and pulled the door open, disappearing from view.

When the door clicked shut, he stared down at his wand and thought of their day back in Hogsmeade together, remembering her smile and the sound of her laugh. A warm feeling overtook him as the memory resurfaced. 

“ _Expecto Patronum!”_ he called out and was greeted by the sight of a familiar silver form— a stag. 

His hand fell limply back down to his side, and he let out a deep sigh. 

He was completely and honestly _fucked._

**Author's Note:**

> Check us out on tumblr at @women-inthe-sequel and @lovesickjily! 
> 
> and please don't hesitate to leave a comment or kudos if you enjoy the story so far!! :)


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